A RE THUS A 


F:  MARION 
CRAWFORD 


BERKELEY 

LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF 
CALIFORNIA 


AEETHUSA 


ARETHUSA 


ARETHUSA 


BY 


F.    MARION   CRAWFORD 

AUTHOR  OF  "SARACINESCA,"  "A  LADY  OF  ROME,1 
ETC.,  ETC. 


WITH  ILLUSTRATIONS  BY 
GERTRUDE  DEMAIN  HAMMOND 


gcrfc 
THE   MACMILLAN   COMPANY 

LONDON:  MACMILLAN  &  CO.,  LTD. 

1907 

All  rights  reserved 


ICAN  STACK 


COPYRIGHT,  1906,  1907, 
BY  THE  PHILLIPS   PUBLISHING  CO. 

COPYRIGHT,  1907, 
BY  F.  MAEION  CRAWFORD. 


Set  up  and  electrotyped.    Published  November,  1907. 


Kortoooti 

J.  S.  Cashing  &  Co.  —  Berwick  &  Smith  Co. 
Norwood,  Mass.,  U.S.A. 


%5-vS- 


ana, 


THE    STORY-TELLER    OF    THE   BAZAAR 

DEDICATES 

THIS    TALE    OF    CONSTANTINOPLE 
TO   HIS   DEAR   DAUGHTER 

ELEANOR 


LIST   OF   ILLUSTRATIONS 

Arethusa Frontispiece 

FACING   PAGE 

He  was  talking  with  an  old  beggar  woman 30 

She  tenderly  kissed  the  wrinkled  face 44 

'  Yes,'  replied  the  negress.  «  Rustan  is  very  affectionate.  He 
says  that  I  am  his  Zoe,  his  "life,"  because  he  would  surely 
die  of  starvation  without  me  ! '  .  .  .  .  .66 

'  Tell  me  your  story,'  he  said  in  a  lower  tone.     *  Do  not  be  afraid  ! 

no  one  shall  hurt  you.' 88 

'  Forty  ducats  ! '  cried  Omobono,  casting  up  his  eyes,  and  pre 
paring  to  bargain  for  at  least  half  an  hour  ....  94 

All  sorts  of  confused  thoughts  crowded  her  brain,  as  Zeno  sat 

down  on  a  seat  beside  the  divan     ......     108 

There  was  something  so  oddly  fixed  in  his  look  and  so  dull  in  his 

voice  that  Omobono  began  to  fear  that  he  might  be  a  lunatic    128 

'I  know  them,'  Zoe  answered.     'If  I  am  not  telling  you  the 

truth,  sell  me  in  the  market  to-morrow.'       ....     164 

'  I  did  not  mean  to  love  you ! '  .        .        .        .        .        .     194 

The  captain's  wife  obeyed,  less  frightened  than  she  had  been  at 

first 218 

Saw  her  sink  down  there  exhausted,  and  draw  a  heavy  silk  shawl 

across  her  body      .........     240 

*  Tell  me  what  you  see,'  she  said  to  the  maids      ....     262 

1  Yes  ! '  roared  the  Tartar.  'Ten  thousand  ducats  !  And  if  I  do 
not  find  the  money  in  the  house,  you  two  must  find  it  in 
yours  !  Do  you  understand  ?  ' 274 

Then,  all  at  once,  he  felt  that  she  had  received  one  of  those 
inspirations  of  the  practical  sense  which  visit  women  who 
are  driven  to  extremities 310 

'  Am  I  not  your  bought  slave  ?  '  she  asked.     '  I  must  obey.'        .     352 

vii 


CHAPTER  I 

CARLO  ZENO,  gentleman  of  Venice,  ex-clerk,  ex-gambler, 
ex-soldier  of  fortune,  ex-lay  prebendary  of  Patras,  ex- 
duellist,  and  ex-Greek  general,  being  about  twenty-nine 
years  of  age,  and  having  in  his  tough  body  the  scars  of 
half-a-dozen  wounds  that  would  have  killed  an  ordinary 
man,  had  resolved  to  turn  over  a  new  leaf,  had  become 
a  merchant,  and  was  established  in  Constantinople  in 
the  year  1376. 

He  had  bought  a  house  in  the  city  itself  because  the 
merchants  of  Genoa  all  dwelt  in  the  town  of  Pera,  on  the 
other  side  of  the  Golden  Horn.  A  Venetian  could  not 
have  lived  in  the  same  place  with  Genoese,  for  the  air 
would  have  poisoned  him,  to  a  certainty;  and  besides, 
the  sight  of  a  Genoese  face,  the  sound  of  the  Genoese 
dialect,  the  smell  of  Genoese  cookery,  were  all  equally 
sickening  to  any  one  brought  up  in  the  lagoons.  Genoa 
was  not  fit  to  be  mentioned  within  hearing  of  polite 
Venetian  ears,  its  very  name  was  unspeakable  by  decent 
Venetian  lips;  and  even  to  pronounce  the  syllables  for 
purposes  of  business  was  horribly  unlucky. 

Therefore  Carlo  Zeno  and  his  friends  had  taken  up  their 
abode  in  the  old  city,  amongst  the  Greeks  and  the 
Bokharians,  the  Jews  and  the  Circassians,  and  they  left 
the  Genoese  to  themselves  in  Pera,  pretending  that  they 


2  ARETHUSA  CHAP. 

did  not  even  exist.  It  was  not  always  easy  to  keep  up 
the  pretence,  it  is  true,  for  Zeno  had  extremely  good  eyes 
and  could  not  help  seeing  those  abominations  of  man 
kind  on  the  other  side  of  the  Golden  Horn  when  he  sat  in 
his  balcony  on  spring  evenings ;  and  his  only  consolation 
was  to  dream  of  destroying  them  wholesale,  of  hewing 
them  in  pieces  by  the  hundred  and  the  thousand,  and 
of  piling  up  pyramids  of  their  ugly  grinning  heads. 
Why  were  they  Genoese?  Carlo  Zeno  would  rather 
have  taken  a  box  on  the  ear  from  Sultan  Amurad,  the 
Turk,  over  there  in  Asia  Minor,  than  a  civil  word  from 
the  least  objectionable  of  those  utterly  unspeakable 
monsters  of  Genoese.  '  Behold/  said  Tertullian  one 
day  in  scorn,  'how  these  Christians  love  one  another.' 
Matters  had  not  improved  in  eleven  hundred  years, 
since  that  learned  Doctor  of  the  Church  had  departed 
this  life,  presumably  for  a  more  charitable  world;  but 
Carlo  Zeno  would  have  answered  that  the  Genoese  were 
no  more  Christians  than  mules,  and  much  less  so  than 
the  pigs,  which  are  all  under  the  special  protection  of 
the  blessed  Saint  Anthony. 

At  the  very  time,  too,  when  my  story  begins,  those 
obnoxious  villains  of  Genoa  were  on  the  successful  side 
of  a  revolution ;  for  they  had  helped  Emperor  Androni- 
cus  to  imprison  his  father,  Emperor  John,  in  the  tall 
Amena  tower  on  the  north  side  of  the  city,  by  the  Golden 
Horn,  and  to  lock  up  his  two  younger  brothers  in  a  sepa 
rate  dungeon.  It  was  true  that  Emperor  John  had  ordered 
Andronicus  and  his  little  son  of  five  to  be  blinded  with 
boiling  vinegar,  but  Genoese  money  had  miraculously 


I  AKETHUSA  3 

converted  the  vinegar  into  bland  white  wine,  and  had 
reduced  the  temperature  from  the  boiling  point  to  that 
of  a  healthful  lotion,  so  that  neither  the  boy  nor  the  man 
were  any  the  worse  after  the  application  than  before ;  but 
Andronicus  had  resented  the  mere  intention  on  the  part 
of  his  father,  and  had  avenged  himself  by  taking  the 
Empire,  such  as  it  was,  for  the  present,  while  reserving 
the  delight  of  murdering  his  parent  and  his  brothers  at  a 
convenient  season  in  the  future. 

All  this  was  very  well,  no  doubt,  and  Andronicus 
was  undisputed  Emperor  for  the  time  being,  because  the 
Genoese  and  Sultan  Amurad  were  willing  that  he  should 
be;  but  Amurad  had  not  always  been  his  friend,  and 
the  Genoese  had  not  always  had  the  upper  hand  of  the 
Venetians;  the  wind  might  change  in  a  moment  and  a 
tempest  might  whirl  him  away  from  the  throne  even 
more  quickly  than  the  fair  breeze  had  wafted  him 
towards  it. 

Zeno  thought  so  too,  and  wondered  whether  it  would 
please  fate  to  make  him  the  spirit  of  the  storm.  He 
cared  very  little  about  Handsome  John,  as  Paleologus 
was  nicknamed,  but  he  cared  a  great  deal  for  a  possible 
chance  of  driving  the  Genoese  out  of  Pera  and  of  getting 
the  island  of  Tenedos  for  the  Venetian  Republic. 

And  now  he  had  transacted  the  business  of  the  day, 
and  had  dined  on  a  roasted  palamit,  for  it  was  a  Friday 
and  the  palamit  is  the  best  fish  that  swims,  from  the 
Dardanelles  to  the  Black  Sea ;  and  Zeno  would  no  more 
have  eaten  meat  on  a  day  of  abstinence  than  he  would 
have  sat  down  to  table  with  a  Genoese.  He  had  been 


4  ARETHUSA  CHAP. 

brought  up  to  be  a  churchman,  and  though  the  attempt 
to  make  a  priest  of  him  had  failed  for  obvious  reasons, 
he  was  constant  in  observing  those  little  rules  and  regu 
lations  which  he  had  been  taught  to  believe  conducive 
to  salvation,  seeing  that  he  was  of  a  rash  temper,  prone 
to  seek  danger,  and  never  sure  of  coming  home  alive 
when  it  pleased  him  to  walk  abroad.  He  was  not  a 
quarrelsome  man  on  his  own  account,  but  he  had  a  most 
wonderful  facility  for  taking  up  the  quarrels  of  other 
people  who  seemed  to  be  in  the  right.  The  more  hope 
less  the  just  case,  or  cause,  the  more  certain  it  was  that 
Carlo  Zeno  would  take  it  up  and  fight  for  it  as  if  it  were 
his  own. 

But  now,  if  ever,  he  was  peacefully  inclined;  for  the 
palamit  had  been  done  to  a  turn  by  the  Dalmatian  cook ; 
the  salad  which  had  followed  it  had  been  composed  to  his 
liking,  with  shredded  red  peppers,  pickled  olives,  an 
chovies,  and  cardamom  seeds,  all  mixed  among  the  crisp 
lettuce;  and  the  draught  of  wine  that  had  finished  the 
meal  had  gleamed  in  the  Murano  glass  like  spirit  of  gold, 
and  the  flavour  of  it,  as  he  had  thoughtfully  sipped  it, 
had  made  him  think  of  the  scent  that  still  sunshine 
draws  from  fruit  hanging  on  vine  and  tree.  He  sat  in  a 
deep  chair  on  his  covered  balcony,  and  was  conscious 
that  for  the  moment  peace  and  privacy  were  almost  as 
delightful  as  the  best  fight  in  the  world.  It  would  have 
been  impossible  to  say  more  than  that. 

The  sun  was  low,  for  the  spring  days  were  not  yet 
long,  and  the  shadow  of  the  city  already  fell  across  the 
deep  blue  water  of  the  Golden  Horn.  Zeno  gazed  down 


i  AKETHUSA  5 

at  the  moving  scene ;  his  keen  brown  eyes  watched  the 
boats  gliding  by  and  softened,  for  what  he  saw  made  him 
think  of  Venice,  the  lagoons,  and  his  home.  Of  all 
people,  the  most  incorrigible  wanderer  is  generally  the 
most  hopelessly  sentimental  about  his  native  place. 

Zeno  had  brown  eyes  that  could  soften  like  a  woman's, 
but  they  were  much  more  often  keen  and  quick,  turning 
suddenly  to  take  in  at  a  glance  all  that  could  be  seen  at 
all,  until  they  fixed  themselves  with  a  piercing  gaze  on 
whatever  interested  their  owner  most  for  the  time  being, 
—  his  friend,  or  his  adversary,  his  quarry  if  he  were 
hunting,  a  woman's  face  or  figure.  He  was  not  a  big 
man,  but  he  was  thoroughly  well  made  and  well  put 
together,  elastic,  tough,  and  active.  His  small  brown 
hands,  compact  and  firm,  seemed  ready  to  seize  or  strike 
at  instant  notice  —  the  ideal  hands  of  a  fighting  man. 
There  was  the  same  ready  and  fearless  look  in  his  clean 
shaven  face  and  small,  energetic  head,  and  when  he 
moved  his  least  motion  betrayed  the  same  gifts.  Women 
did  not  think  him  handsome  in  those  days,  when  the 
idea  of  beauty  in  man  or  woman  alike  was  associated  with 
fair  or  auburn  hair  and  milk-white  skin  and  cherry  lips. 
In  fact,  Carlo  Zeno  hardly  showed  his  lips  at  all,  his 
thick  hair  was  almost  black,  and  his  complexion  was 
already  as  tanned  and  weather-stained  as  an  old  sailor's. 
But  like  many  men  of  action  he  was  careful  of  his  dress, 
and  extremely  fastidious  in  his  ways.  In  the  ranks,  the 
greatest  dandies  are  often  the  best  soldiers,  explain  the 
fact  as  you  will.  Some  officers  say  that  such  men  are  far 
too  vain  to  run  away.  Many  a  French  noble  who 


6  AKETHUSA  CHAP. 

perished  on  the  scaffold  in  the  revolution  bestowed  more 
of  his  last  moments  on  his  toilet  than  he  devoted  to 
his  prayers,  and  died  like  a  hero  and  a  gentleman. 
There  are  defects,  like  vanity,  which  may  sometimes 
pass  for  virtues.  Carlo  Zeno  was  one  of  those  men  whose 
outward  appearance  is  little  affected  by  what  they  do, 
on  whom  the  dust  and  heat  of  travel  seem  to  leave  no 
trace;  who  are  invariably  clean,  neat,  and  fresh,  the 
envy  and  despair  of  ordinary  people.  His  dark-red 
velvet  cap  was  always  set  on  his  thick  hair  at  the  same 
angle,  and  its  sheen  was  as  speckless  as  if  dust  did  not 
exist.  The  narrow  miniver  border  of  his  wine-coloured 
cloth  coat  was  never  ragged  or  worn  at  the  edges;  the 
fine  linen,  gathered  at  his  throat  and  wrists,  never  be 
trayed  the  least  suspicion  of  dinginess;  the  mud  of 
Constantinople  never  clung  to  the  soft  Bulgarian  leather 
of  his  well-made  shoes. 

Just  now,  the  latter  were  stuck  out  in  front  of  him 
as  he  leaned  back  in  his  deep  chair  and  stretched  his 
legs,  asking  himself  vaguely  whether  he  could  be  con 
tented  for  any  long  time  with  the  quiet  life  he  was  leading. 

As  if  in  answer  to  the  question,  his  clerk  and  secretary, 
an  important  little  grey-bearded  personage,  appeared 
on  the  balcony  at  that  very  moment  with  a  letter  in  his 
hand. 

'From  Venice,  sir/  said  Omobono  —  that  was  his 
name  —  'and  by  the  handwriting  and  the  seal  I  judge 
it  is  written  by  Messer  Marco  Pesaro.' 

Zeno  frowned  and  then  smiled,  as  he  generally  did  at 
the  manifestations  of  Omobono's  incorrigible  curiosity. 


I  ARETHUSA  7 

It  was  the  only  defect  of  a  most  excellent  person  who  was 
indispensable  to  Zeno's  daily  life,  and  invaluable  in  his 
business.  Omobono  had  the  sad  and  gentle  face  of  an 
honest  man  who  has  failed  on  his  own  account,  but  whose 
excellent  qualities  are  immensely  serviceable  to  stronger 
men. 

Zeno  took  the  letter  and  glanced  towards  the  har 
bour,  far  to  the  right  of  his  house.  Omobono  made  a 
short  step  backwards,  but  kept  his  eyes  fixed  on  the 
paper. 

'No  foreign  vessel  has  anchored  to-day/  said  the  mer 
chant  ;  '  who  brought  this  ? ' 

1  The  captain  of  a  Venetian  ship,  sir,  which  is  anchored 
outside,  before  the  Port  of  Theodosius.' 

Zeno  nodded  carelessly  as  he  cut  the  string.  The 
letter  was  written  on  strong  cotton  paper  from  Padua, 
folded  six  times  and  secured  by  twisted  hemp  threads, 
of  which  the  final  knot  had  been  squeezed  into  red  wax 
and  flattened  under  a  heavy  seal.  Omobono  watched 
his  employer  quietly,  hoping  to  learn  that  he  had  rightly 
guessed  the  correspondent's  name.  Zeno,  intent  on 
reading,  paid  no  attention  to  the  secretary,  who  gradu 
ally  edged  nearer  until  he  could  almost  make  out  the 
words. 

This  was  what  Zeno  read,  in  very  long  sentences  and 
in  the  Venetian  dialect :  — 

MOST  BELOVED  AND  HONOURED  FRIEND  —  I  despatch 
this  writing  by  the  opportunity  of  Sebastian  Corner's 
good  ship,  sailing  to-morrow,  with  the  help  of  God,  for 
Constantinople  with  a  cargo  of  Florence  cloth,  Dalmatian 


8  ARETHUSA 


CHAP. 


linen,  crossbows,  Venetian  lace,  straw  hats,  and  blind 
nightingales.  May  the  Lord  preserve  the  vessel,  the 
crew,  and  the  cargo  from  those  unmentionable  dogs  of 
Genoese,  and  bring  all  safely  to  the  end  of  the  voyage 
within  two  months.  The  cloth,  lace,  and  straw  hats 
are  mine,  the  rest  of  the  cargo  belongs  to  Sebastian 
Corner,  except  the  nightingales,  which  are  a  gift  from 
the  Most  Serene  Republic  to  his  majesty  the  Emperor, 
together  with  the  man  who  takes  care  of  the  birds. 
What  I  say  of  my  share  in  the  cargo,  most  noble  friend, 
is  not  as  in  the  way  of  boasting  myself  a  wealthy  mer 
chant,  for  indeed  I  am  by  no  means  rich,  though  by  my 
constant  industry,  my  sleepless  watchfulness,  and  my 
honest  dealing  I  have  saved  a  crust  of  bread.  Nay, 
I  say  it  rather  because  I  come  with  a  request  to  you,  and 
in  order  that  you  may  know  that  there  will  be  money 
due  to  me  in  Constantinople  for  the  sale  of  this  cargo, 
through  the  house  of  Marin  Corner,  the  brother  of  Sebas 
tian,  who  will  pay  you  on  your  demand,  most  beloved 
and  honoured  friend,  the  sum  of  three  hundred  gold 
ducats.  For  I  feel  sure  that  you  will  undertake  the 
business  I  ask,  for  love  of  me  and  a  commission  of  a  lira 
of  piccoli  for  each  ducat.  I  desire,  in  fact,  that  you  will 
buy  for  me  the  most  handsome  slave  that  can  be  had  for 
the  money  I  offer,  or  even,  if  the  girl  were  surpassingly 
beautiful,  for  three  hundred  and  fifty  ducats.  The  truth 
is,  most  noble  friend,  that  my  wife,  who  is,  as  you  know, 
ten  years  older  than  I,  and  impeded  by  rheumatisms, 
is  in  need  of  a  youthful  and  accomplished  companion  to 
help  her  to  pass  the  time,  and  as  I  have  always  made  it 
my  duty  and  my  business  to  fufil  and  even,  as  in  the 
present  case,  to  anticipate  her  wishes,  I  am  willing  to 
spend  this  large  sum  of  money  for  the  sole  purpose  of 
pleasing  her.  Moreover  I  turn  to  you,  most  dear  sir 
and  friend,  well  knowing  that  your  kindness  is  only 


i  ARETHUSA  9 

matched  by  your  fine  taste.  My  wife  would,  I  am  sure, 
prefer  as  a  companion  a  girl  with  fine  natural  hair, 
either  quite  black  or  very  fair,  the  red  auburn  colour 
being  so  common  here  as  to  make  one  almost  wish  that 
women  would  not  dye  their  hair  at  all.  My  dear  and 
honoured  friend,  the  teeth  are  a  very  important  matter ; 
pray  give  your  most  particular  attention  to  their  white 
ness  and  regularity,  for  my  wife  is  very  fastidious.  And 
also,  I  entreat  you,  choose  a  slave  with  small  ankles,  not 
larger  than  you  can  span  with  your  thumb  and  middle 
finger.  My  wife  will  care  less  about  a  very  small  waist, 
though  if  it  be  naturally  slender  it  is  certainly  a  point  of 
beauty.  In  all  this,  dearest  sir,  employ  for  love  of  me 
those  gifts  of  discernment  with  which  heaven  has  so 
richly  endowed  you,  and  I  trust  you  will  consider  the 
commission  a  fair  one.  Sebastian  Corner,  who  is  an  old 
man,  will  take  charge  of  the  slave  and  bring  her  to 
Venice,  if  you  will  only  see  that  she  is  properly  protected 
and  fed  until  he  is  ready  to  sail,  and  this  at  the  usual 
rate.  I  have  also  agreed  with  him  that  she  is  not  to  be 
lodged  in  the  common  cabin  with  the  other  female 
slaves  whom  he  will  bring  from  the  Black  Sea  on  his 
own  account,  but  separately  and  with  better  food,  lest 
she  should  grow  unpleasingly  thin.  Yet  it  is  under 
stood  that  his  regular  slave-master  is  to  be  responsible  for 
her  protection,  and  will  watch  over  her  behaviour  during 
the  voyage.  This,  my  most  worthy,  dear  and  honourable 
sir  and  friend,  is  the  commission  which  I  beg  you  to 
undertake;  and  in  this  and  all  your  other  affairs  I  pray 
that  the  hand  of  Providence,  the  intercession  of  the 
saints,  and  the  wisdom  of  the  one  hundred  and  eighteen 
Nicene  fathers  may  be  always  with  you.  From  Venice. 
Marco  Pesaro  to  the  most  noble  patrician,  Carlo  Zeno, 
his  friend.  The  fourteenth  day  of  March  in  the  year 
1376. 


10  ARETHUSA 


CHAP. 


Zeno  smiled  repeatedly  as  he  read  the  letter,  but  he 
did  not  look  up  till  he  had  finished  it.  His  eyes  met 
those  of  his  secretary,  who  was  now  much  nearer  than 
before. 

'Omobono,'  said  Zeno  gravely,  '  curiosity  is  unbecom 
ing  in  a  man  of  your  years.  With  your  grey  beard  and 
solemn  air  you  are  as  prying  and  curious  as  a  girl.' 

Omobono  looked  contritely  at  his  folded  hands  and 
moved  the  left  one  slowly  within  the  right. 

'Alas,  sir/  he  answered,  'I  know  it.  I  would  that 
these  hands  held  but  a  thousandth  part  of  what  my 
eyes  have  seen.' 

'They  would  be  rich  if  they  did,'  observed  Zeno 
bluntly.  'It  is  fortunate  that  with  your  uncommon 
taste  for  other  men's  affairs  you  can  at  least  keep  some 
thing  to  yourself.  Since  you  have  no  doubt  mastered 
the  contents  of  this  letter  as  well  as  I ' 

The  good  man  protested. 

'  Indeed,  sir,  how  could  I  have  read  a  single  word  at  this 
distance?  Try  for  yourself,  sir,  for  your  eyes  are  far 
younger  and  better  than  mine.' 

'Younger,'  answered  Zeno,  'but  hardly  better.  And 
now  send  for  Barlaam,  the  Syrian  merchant,  and  bid  him 
come  quickly,  for  he  may  do  business  with  me  before 
the  sun  sets.' 

'He  will  not  do  business  to-day,'  answered  Omobono. 
'This  is  Friday,  which  the  Muslemin  keep  holy.' 

'  So  much  the  worse  for  Barlaam.  He  will  miss  a  good 
bargain.  Send  for  Abraham  of  Smyrna,  the  Jewish 
caravan-broker. ' 


I  ARETHUSA  11 

'He  will  not  do  business  either/  said  Omobono,  'for 
to-morrow  is  Sabbath,  and  Shabbes  begins  on  Friday 
evening.' 

'In  the  name  of  the  blessed  Mark  our  Evangelist,  then 
send  me  some  Christian,  for  Sunday  cannot  begin  on 
Friday,  even  in  Constantinople.' 

'There  is  Rustan  Karaboghazji,  the  Bokharian,'  sug 
gested  Omobono. 

Zeno  looked  sharply  at  the  secretary. 

'The  slave-dealer?'  he  enquired. 

Omobono  nodded,  but  he  reddened  a  little,  poor  man, 
and  looked  down  at  his  hands  again,  for  he  had  betrayed 
himself,  after  protesting  that  he  knew  nothing  of  the 
contents  of  the  letter.  Zeno  laughed  gaily. 

'You  are  a  good  man,  Omobono,'  he  said.  'You  could 
not  deceive  a  child.  Do  you  happen  to  have  heard  that 
Rustan  has  what  Messer  Marco  wants?' 

But  Omobono  shook  his  head  and  grew  still  redder. 

'Indeed,  sir,  —  I  —  I  do  not  know  what  your  friend 
wants  —  I  only  guessed  • ' 

'A  very  good  guess,  Omobono.  If  I  could  guess  the 
future  as  you  can  the  present,  I  should  be  a  rich  man. 
Yes,  send  for  Rustan.  I  believe  he  will  do  better  for 
me  than  the  Jew  or  the  Mohammedan.' 

'They  say  here  that  it  takes  ten  Jews  to  cheat  a  Greek, 
and  ten  Greeks  to  cheat  a  Bokharian,  sir/  said  Omobono. 

'  To  say  nothing  of  those  Genoese  swine  who  cheat  the 
whole  Eastern  Empire!  What  chance  have  we  poor 
Venetians  in  such  a  place?' 

'May  heaven  send  the  Genoese  the  fate  of  Sodom 


12  AKETHUSA  CHAP. 

and  Gomorrah,  and  the  halter  of  Judas  Iscariot ! '  prayed 
Omobono  very  devoutly. 

'By  all  means,'  returned  Zeno,  'I  hope  so.  Now  send 
for  the  Bokharian.' 

Omobono  bowed  and  left  the  balcony,  and  his  employer 
leaned  back  in  his  chair  again,  still  holding  the  folded 
paper  in  his  hand.  His  expressive  face  wore  a  look  of 
amusement  for  a  while,  but  presently  it  turned  into 
something  more  like  good-natured  contempt,  as  his 
thoughts  went  back  from  his  secretary's  last  speech,  to 
Marco  Pesaro  and  his  letter. 

This  Pesaro  was  a  fat  little  man  of  forty,  who  had 
married  a  rich  widow  ten  years  older  than  himself. 
Carlo  Zeno  had  known  him  well  before  he  had  been 
married,  a  boon  companion,  a  jolly  good-for-nothing 
who  loved  the  society  of  younger  men,  and  did  them  no 
good  by  example  or  precept.  His  father  and  mother 
had  both  perished  in  the  great  plague  that  raged  in  the 
year  when  Zeno  was  born,  and  Marco  had  been  brought 
up  by  two  old  aunts  who  doted  on  him.  The  result 
usual  in  such  cases  had  followed  in  due  time;  he  had 
spent  his  own  fortune  and  what  he  inherited  from  his 
aunts,  who  died  conveniently,  and  when  near  forty  he 
had  found  himself  penniless,  a  poor  relation  of  a  great 
family,  none  the  worse  in  health  for  nearly  a  quarter  of 
a  century  of  gaiety  and  feasting,  and  in  temper  much  in 
clined  to  lead  the  same  life  for  at  least  another  twenty 
years.  The  heart  was  young  yet,  the  round,  pink 
face  was  absurdly  youthful  still,  but  the  purse  was  in  a 
state  of  permanent  collapse,  without  any  prospect 


i  ARETHUSA  13 

of  recovery.  Then  Marco  sold  everything  he  had, 
down  to  the  sword  which  he  had  never  drawn,  and  the 
jewelled  dagger  which  had  never  done  any  worse  damage 
than  to  cut  the  string  of  a  love-letter ;  he  sold  his  last 
silver  spoons,  his  silver  drinking-cup  and  the  gold  chain 
and  ball  from  his  cloak,  and  with  the  proceeds  he  gave 
a  dozen  of  his  friends  one  last  farewell  feast.  Then,  on 
the  following  day,  his  spirit  broken  and  resigned  to  his 
fate,  he  offered  himself  to  the  very  rich,  elderly,  and  de 
vout  widow  who  had  been  making  eyes  at  him  for  six 
months,  and  he  was  promptly  accepted.  With  some 
of  her  money  he  engaged  in  the  Eastern  trade,  renounced 
the  follies  of  his  youth,  and  became  a  respectable  mer 
chant. 

It  was  affluence,  it  was  luxury,  but  it  was  slavery 
and  he  knew  it,  and  accepted  the  fact  at  first  with  much 
philosophy.  Surely,  he  said  to  himself,  a  good  cook  and 
a  good  cellar,  with  a  fine  house  at  San  Cassian,  and  a 
virtuous,  if  elderly,  wife  ought  to  satisfy  any  man  of  forty. 
The  rest  was  but  vanity.  Could  anything  be  more 
absurd,  at  his  age,  than  to  go  on  for  ever  playing  the 
butterfly  —  such  an  elderly  butterfly !  —  from  one  pair 
of  bright  eyes  to  another? 

But  he  had  counted  without  the  fact  that  the  butterfly 
is  the  final  development  of  its  genus  and  cannot  turn 
into  anything  else.  It  must  be  a  butterfly  to  the  end. 
Poor  Marco  soon  found  that  his  heart  was  as  suscept 
ible  as  ever,  and  could  beat  like  a  boy's  on  very  slight 
provocation,  but  that  unfortunately  it  was  never  his  rich 
wife  who  provoked  it  to  such  unseemly  and  lively  action. 


14  ARETHUSA  CHAP. 

Yet  her  facial  angle  inspired  him  with  a  terror  even 
greater  than  the  attraction  of  a  pretty  face  and  a  well- 
turned  figure.  She  had  a  way  of  setting  her  thin  lips 
over  her  prominent  teeth  which  at  the  same  time 
stretched  the  skin  upon  the  bridge  of  her  hooked  nose 
while  she  looked  at  him  from  under  her  half-closed  lids, 
that  made  his  blood  run  cold,  robbed  the  richest  sauce 
of  its  delicious  flavour,  and  turned  the  wine  of  Samos  to 
vinegar  in  his  glass.  Daily,  she  grew  older,  sharper, 
more  irritable;  and  daily,  too,  the  heart  of  Marco 
Pesaro  seemed  to  grow  younger  and  the  more  to  crave 
the  companionship  of  a  mate  much  younger  still,  or  at 
least  the  near  presence  of  those  outward,  visible,  and 
tangible  gifts  of  the  gods,  such  as  a  deep  warm  eye,  and 
a  soft  white  hand,  with  which  man  has  always  associated 
the  heart  of  woman. 

Zeno  guessed  all  this  and  the  rest  too ;  the  letter  he  had 
received  needed  no  further  explanation,  and  for  old 
acquaintance's  sake  he  had  no  objection  to  executing 
the  commission  Marco  had  thrust  upon  him. 

And  now,  all  you  who  stop  and  gather  round  the  story 
teller  in  this  world's  great  bazaar,  to  listen,  if  his  tale 
please  you,  and  to  find  fault  with  him  if  it  does  not,  you 
cry  out  that  if  Carlo  Zeno  was  really  the  hero  history 
describes  him  to  have  been,  he  would  have  been  very, 
very  grieved  at  being  asked  to  do  anything  so  inhuman  as 
to  buy  a  pretty  slave  abroad  to  be  sent  home  to  a  friend, 
even  though  the  latter  protested  that  the  girl  was  to 
be  trained  as  a  companion  for  his  wife.  He  would  have 
been  grieved  and  angry,  he  would  have  torn  the  letter 


I  ARETHUSA  15 

to  shreds,  and  would  either  not  have  answered  it  at  all, 
or  would  have  written  to  tell  Pesaro  that  he  was  a  brute, 
that  men  and  women  are  all  free  and  equal,  and  that  to 
buy  and  sell  them  is  high  treason  against  the  majesty 
of  the  rights  of  men. 

But  to  those  protests  and  outcries  the  story-teller 
has  many  answers  ready.  In  the  first  place,  no  one  had 
even  dreamt  of  the  rights  of  men  in  1376 ;  and  secondly, 
the  trade  in  white  slaves  was  almost  as  profitable  to 
Venice  then  as  it  is  in  1906  to  certain  great  states  the 
story-teller  could  name,  with  the  advantage  that  there 
was  no  hypocritical  secret  about  it,  and  that  it  was  pro 
vided  for  in  international  treaties,  in  spite  of  the  Pope, 
who  said  it  was  wrong;  and  thirdly,  heroes  are  heroes 
for  ever  in  respect  of  their  heroic  deeds,  but  in  their 
daily  lives  they  are  very  much  like  the  other  men  of  their 
class  and  time,  as  you  will  soon  learn  if  you  read  the 
life  of  Bayard,  '  without  fear  or  reproach/  written  by  his 
Faithful  Servitor;  for  the  faithful  one  set  down  some 
doings  of  the  virtuous  knight  which  a  modern  biographer 
would  have  altogether  left  out,  but  which  were  no  more 
a  'reproach'  to  a  man  in  the  year  1500,  than  getting 
drunk  was  a '  reproach '  in  1700,  or  than  stealing  anything 
over  a  million  is  a '  reproach '  to-day ;  fourthly  and  lastly, 
if  Zeno  had  virtuously  refused  to  buy  a  slave  for  Marco 
Pesaro,  there  would  have  been  no  story  to  tell,  and  this 
seems  an  excellent  argument  to  the  story-teller  himself. 

Zeno's  thoughts  soon  wandered  from  Pesaro  and  the 
letter,  and  followed  the  old  thread  of  life  in  Venice,  till 
it  led  his  soul  through  the  labyrinth  of  daily  existence  far 


16  ARETHUSA 


CHAP.  I 


out  into  the  dreamland  beyond;  and  the  place  of  his 
dreams  was  a  calm  and  resplendent  water,  where  stately 
palaces  rose  through  vapours  of  purple  and  gold  against 
an  evening  sky.  Over  the  lagoon  came  music  of  old 
chimes  from  San  Giorgio,  and  the  deeper  bells  of  Venice 
answered  back  again;  at  the  instant  the  sunset  breeze 
floated  off  the  land  and  breathed  into  the  dyed  sails 
of  the  Istrians  without  a  sound,  so  that  the  boats  began 
to  move  by  magic,  gliding  out  one  by  one  with  a  soft, 
low  rush,  heard  only  for  a  moment,  as  of  a  woman's 
hand  drawn  across  silk. 

The  mere  thought  of  Venice  called  up  the  vision  of  her 
before  the  inward  eye  of  his  heart;  for  he  loved  his 
native  city  better  than  he  had  ever  loved  any  woman  yet, 
and  much  better  than  his  own  life.  When  he  could  think 
of  Venice,  until  the  broad  expanse  of  the  lagoon  seemed 
to  spread  itself  over  the  deeper  and  darker  waters  of  the 
Golden  Horn,  and  when  he  could  fancy  himself  at  home, 
he  was  supremely  and  calmly  happy,  and  would  not 
have  changed  his  dream  for  any  reality  except  its  own. 


CHAPTER  II 

OMOBONO  had  drawn  on  a  pair  of  well-greased  raw-hide 
boots  that  came  half-way  up  his  thin  legs,  and  had 
wrapped  himself  in  his  big  brown  cloak  before  going  out. 
On  his  smooth  grey  head  he  wore  a  soft  felt  hat,  the  brim 
turned  up  round  the  crown  at  the  back  but  pulled  out  to 
a  long  point  in  front,  and  he  carried  a  tough  cornel  stick 
in  his  right  hand.  He  had  been  careful  to  leave  in  the 
strong  box  the  purse  that  contained  money  belonging 
to  his  employer,  and  had  but  a  few  small  coins  of  his 
own  in  his  wallet  to  pay  a  ferryman  if  he  should  need  one, 
or  to  give  to  a  hungry  beggar.  Like  most  men  who  have 
failed  to  make  money  Omobono  was  very  sorry  for  poor 
people,  and  did  not  believe  that  all  beggars  could  be  rich 
if  they  would  work.  But  he  was  poor  himself,  and  his 
charity  was  of  the  humble  kind. 

There  was  a  fairly  broad  street  behind  Carlo  Zeno's 
house,  and  here  the  early  spring  sun  had  dried  the  mud 
to  something  like  a  solid  surface;  but  Omobono  fol 
lowed  this  thoroughfare  only  for  a  little  distance,  and 
then  turned  into  a  narrow  and  filthy  lane  that  led  to 
other  lanes,  and  to  others  still  beyond,  all  crowded  with 
humanity,  all  dark  and  muddy,  all  foul  with  garbage, 
all  reeking  with  the  overpowering  smell  of  Eastern  cook 
ing  made  up  of  garlic,  frying  onions,  sour  cream,  oil 
c  17 


18  ARETHUSA  CHJLP. 

of  sesame,  and  roasting  mutton  where  there  were  Jews  or 
Mohammedans,  or  fried  fish  where  Christians  lived,  since 
it  was  Friday. 

The  small  wooden  houses,  black  with  smoke  and  the 
dampness  of  the  past  winter,  overhung  the  way  so  that 
the  opposite  balconies  of  the  second  stories  almost 
touched  each  other.  Had  the  buildings  been  higher, 
scarcely  any  light  at  all  would  have  reached  the  lower 
windows;  as  it  was,  a  man  with  good  eyes  might  just 
see  to  read  at  noon  if  he  were  not  too  far  within. 

Omobono  evidently  knew  his  way  well  enough,  for 
he  did  not  pause  as  he  threaded  the  labyrinth,  and  only 
now  and  then  glanced  up  at  certain  dingy  signs  that  hung 
from  the  crazy  wooden  balconies,  or  from  wooden  arms 
that  stuck  out  here  and  there  like  gallows  from  the  walls. 
As  he  walked,  he  was  chiefly  occupied  in  not  running 
against  the  people  he  met,  and  in  not  stepping  upon  the 
half-naked  children  that  squirmed  and  squalled  in  the 
mud  before  every  doorstep.  For  there  were  children 
everywhere,  children  and  dirt,  dirt  and  children,  all  of 
much  the  same  colour  in  those  dusky  lanes.  Near  almost 
every  open  door  the  slatternly  mother  stirred  a  dark  mess 
of  some  sort  over  a  little  earthen  pan  of  coals,  or  toasted 
gobbets  of  fat  mutton  on  a  black  iron  fork,  or  fried  some 
wretched  fish  in  boiling  oil.  The  Christian  women  were 
by  far  the  dirtiest,  and  their  children  were  the  least 
healthy  and  the  most  neglected,  for  many  of  the  little 
creatures  had  not  a  stitch  of  clothing  on  them.  Most 
decent  were  the  Mohammedans;  they  had  already  the 
bearing  and  the  self-respect  of  the  conquering  race,  and 


II  AEETHUSA  19 

they  treated  their  Greek  and  Bokharian  neighbours 
with  silent  contempt.  Did  not  Sultan  Amurad,  over 
there  on  the  Asian  shore,  make  and  unmake  these  mis 
erable  little  Greek  emperors  as  he  pleased  ?  If  he  chose 
could  he  not  take  Constantinople  and  turn  a  stream  of 
Christian  blood  into  the  Golden  Horn  that  would  redden 
the  Sea  of  Marmora  as  far  as  Antigone  and  Prinkipo  ? 

Omobono  went  on  and  on,  picking  his  way  as  he  might, 
and  little  noticed  by  the  people.  He  was  not  by  any 
means  in  the  poorest  quarter  of  the  city,  and  no  one 
begged  of  him  as  he  went  by.  If  he  thought  of  anything 
except  of  not  setting  his  booted  foot  down  on  some  child's 
sprawling  leg  or  arm,  he  thanked  heaven  and  the  saints 
that  he  had  been  born  a  Venetian,  and  had  been  washed 
and  sent  to  school  like  a  Christian  boy  when  he  was  little 
instead  of  having  first  seen  the  light,  or  what  passed  for 
light,  in  a  back  street  of  Constantinople. 

He  turned  another  corner,  entered  a  lane  even  nar 
rower  than  those  he  had  yet  traversed,  but  almost 
deserted,  and  much  less  dark  because  one  side  of  it  was 
occupied  by  a  wall  not  more  than  ten  feet  high,  in  which 
only  one  small  door  was  to  be  seen.  Along  the  top  of  the 
masonry  all  sorts  of  sharp  bits  of  rusty  iron  and  a  quan 
tity  of  broken  crockery  were  set  in  mortar  with  the  evi 
dent  intention  of  discouraging  any  attempt  to  climb 
over,  either  from  within  or  from  without.  The  door 
itself  was  in  good  repair,  and  had  been  recently  coated 
with  tar  and  sharp  sand  by  way  of  preserving  it  against 
the  damp.  A  well-worn  horizontal  slit  an  inch  long, 
and  an  upright  one  a  foot  higher  up,  showed  that  it  had 


20  AEETHUSA 


CHAP. 


two  separate  Persian  locks  into  which  keys  were  often 
thrust. 

Omobono  rapped  on  the  tarred  wood  with  the  iron- 
shod  end  of  his  stick  and  listened.  He  could  hear  a 
number  of  girls7  voices  chattering,  and  one  was  singing 
softly  in  a  language  he  did  not  understand.  He  knocked 
again,  a  moment  later  the  voices  were  suddenly  silent, 
and  he  heard  the  clacking  of  heavy  slippers  on  wet  flags 
as  some  one  came  to  open. 

' Who  knocks?'  asked  a  deep  and  harsh  female  voice 
from  within,  in  the  Greek  tongue  but  with  a  thick  accent. 

'A  Venetian  who  has  business  with  the  worthy  Kara- 
boghazji,'  answered  Omobono  in  a  conciliatory  tone. 

'Which  Karaboghazji  ? '  enquired  the  voice  suspiciously. 

'Rustan,'  explained  Omobono  mildly. 

From  his  voice,  the  woman  probably  judged  that  if 
he  had  come  with  any  nefarious  purpose  she  was  more 
than  a  match  for  him.  The  door  opened  after  some 
rattling  and  creaking  of  locks,  and  Omobono  started 
in  spite  of  himself.  She  was  indeed  a  match  for  him, 
or  for  any  other  man  who  was  likely  to  knock  at  the 
door.  It  was  no  wonder  that  the  Venetian  secretary 
drew  back  and  hesitated  before  he  spoke  again. 

The  woman  was  a  huge  red-haired  negress  in  yellow, 
fully  six  feet  tall  in  her  heelless  slippers,  and  her  black 
arms,  bare  above  the  elbow,  were  as  sinewy  and  muscular 
as  any  fisherman's  or  porter's.  Her  thick  lips  were 
parted  in  a  sort  of  savage  grin  that  showed  two  rows  of 
teeth  as  sharp  and  white  as  a  shark's ;  her  hair  must  have 
been  just  dyed  that  day,  for  it  was  as  red  as  flame  to  the 


II 


ABETHUSA  21 


very  roots,  and  it  stood  out  almost  straight  from  her 
shiny  black  forehead  and  temples;  as  she  rather  con 
temptuously  scrutinised  Omobono  from  head  to  foot 
the  whites  of  her  coal-black  eyes  gleamed  in  a  way  that 
was  positively  terrifying.  She  wore  wide  Greek  trousers 
of  blue  cotton,  gathered  at  the  ankle,  and  a  wadded 
coat  of  yellow,  that  hung  down  below  her  knees  in  loose 
folds,  like  a  sort  of  skirt,  but  fitted  tightly  over  her  tre 
mendous  shoulders.  This  garment  was  closely  girded 
round  her  ample  waist  by  a  red  sash,  in  which  she  carried 
her  armoury,  consisting  of  a  serviceable  Arab  knife  with 
a  bone  hilt  and  brass  sheath,  and  a  small  whip  made  of 
a  broad  flat  thong  of  hippopotamus  hide  with  a  short 
oak  stock. 

This  terrific  apparition  stood  in  the  little  vestibule 
holding  the  door  open  and  grinning  at  Omobono.  She 
had  closed  another  door  behind  her  before  opening  the 
outer  one,  for  the  slave-dealer's  establishment  was  evi 
dently  managed  with  a  view  to  the  safety  of  his  mer 
chandise. 

'And  what  do  you  want  of  Rustan  Karaboghazji  at 
this  time  of  the  afternoon?'  enquired  the  negress. 
'Who  are  you?' 

'I  am  only  a  clerk,'  answered  Omobono  in  a  depre 
cating  tone,  and  shrinking  a  little  under  his  cloak,  as 
the  awful  virago  thrust  her  head  forward.  'I  am  the 
clerk  of  Messer  Carlo  Zeno,  a  rich  Venetian  merchant, 
who  sends  a  message  by  me  to  your  master ' 

'My  master!'  interrupted  the  black  woman,  with  a 
scornful  laugh.  '  My  master,  indeed ! ' 


22  ARETHUSA  CHAP. 

'I  —  I  supposed '  faltered  Omobono  apologeti 
cally. 

The  negress  moved  a  little  and  rested  one  huge  hand 
on  her  hip,  while  she  slipped  the  other  slowly  up  the 
door-post  till  it  was  above  her  head.  In  this  attitude 
she  looked  gigantic. 

'You  mean  my  husband/  she  said,  showing  all  her 
teeth.  'Rustan  Karaboghazji  is  my  husband.  Do  you 
understand?' 

'Yes,  Kokona  —  I  —  I  mean  Kyria  —  yes,  certainly ! 
I  should  have  known  at  once  that  you  were  the  mistress 
of  the  house  if  you  had  not  condescended  to  open  the 
door  yourself,  Kyria.7 

'And  what  would  become  of  the  cattle,'  enquired  the 
negress  with  a  backward  toss  of  her  head  towards  the 
yard  behind  her,  '  if  the  stable  door  were  in  charge  of  a 
slave  ?  If  your  master  — '  she  dwelt  on  the  two  words 
contemptuously  —  '  wishes  to  buy  of  us,  he  will  have  to 
come  here  and  choose  for  himself.' 

'No,  no!'  answered  Omobono  hastily.  'It  is  another 
matter.  I  think  it  is  a  commission  for  a  friend.  It  is 
something  very  especial.  That  is  why  I  beg  to  be  al 
lowed  to  speak  with  the  Kyrios,  your  husband.' 

The  black  woman  had  listened  attentively. 

'At  this  hour,'  she  said  after  a  moment's  thought, 
'Rustan  is  at  his  devotions.' 

'I  would  not  interrupt  them  for  the  world,'  protested 
Omobono.  'I  can  wait ' 

'No.  You  will  probably  find  him  at  the  church  of 
Saint  Sergius  and  Saint  Bacchus.  If  he  is  not  there, 


II 


ARETHUSA  23 


ask  the  sacristan  where  he  is.  My  husband  is  a  very 
devout  man;  the  sacristan  knows  him  well.' 

'I  hope/  said  Omobono,  whose  curiosity  scented  a 
mystery,  'that  the  sacristan  will  not  take  me  for  an 
importunate  stranger  and  send  me  on  a  fool's  errand. 
If  the  Kyria  would  give  me  some  sign  by  which  the 
sacristan  may  know  that  I  came  from  her ' 

Omobono  paused  on  this  suggestion,  hoping  for  a 
favourable  answer.  Again  the  big  woman  waited  a 
moment  before  speaking. 

'Ask  the  sacristan  to  direct  you  to  find  Rustan  Kara- 
boghazji,  by  four  toes  and  by  five  toes/  she  said  at 
last.  'He  will  certainly  tell  you  the  truth  if  you  ask 
him  in  that  way.' 

'By  four  toes  and  by  five  toes/  repeated  Omobono. 
'  I  cannot  forget  that.  I  thank  you,  Kyria  Karaboghazji, 
and  I  wish  you  a  good  day.' 

The  negress  nodded  and  showed  her  teeth  but  said 
nothing  more,  drew  back  and  shut  the  door  without 
waiting  any  longer.  Omobono  stood  still  a  moment, 
listened  to  the  slapping  of  the  heavy  slippers  on  the  wet 
flags  within,  and  then  went  away  down  the  almost 
deserted  lane,  wondering  much  at  the  taste  of  the  Bo- 
kharian  merchant  in  marrying  an  African  giantess. 
But  soon  his  natural  curiosity  began  to  occupy  itself 
more  actively  with  the  hidden  meaning  of  the  password 
given  him  by  Rustan's  wife;  and,  meditating  on  this 
problem,  he  made  his  way  through  the  heart  of  the  city, 
traversing  many  narrow  and  tortuous  streets,  till  he 
suddenly  emerged  into  a  broad  highway  where  marble 


24  ARETHUSA 


CHAP. 


buildings  gleamed  in  the  late  afternoon  sunshine,  and 
richly  dressed  Greeks  lounged  in  the  wide  exedrse  and 
stately  porticoes,  discussing  the  affairs  of  the  Empire  in 
general  and  their  neighbours'  most  particularly. 

Omobono  trudged  along,  past  the  corner  of  the  wide 
Forum  of  Theodosius,  once  the  centre  of  the  city's 
teeming  life,  but  now  given  over  to  the  tanners  and 
leather-dressers,  for  one  end  of  it  was  used  as  a  slaughter 
house  and  the  hides  had  not  to  be  dragged  far  to  be 
cured;  he  walked  on  quickly,  keeping  to  the  left,  and 
was  soon  in  narrow  streets  again,  where  afterwards  the 
Grand  Bazaar  was  built,  and  where  even  in  those  days 
the  Persian  merchants  and  the  jewellers,  the  dealers  in 
fine  carpets  and  Eastern  merchandise,  the  perfumers,  the 
Egyptian  goldsmiths  and  the  Bokharian  money-changers 
had  their  homes  and  the  headquarters  of  their  business. 
Here  Omobono  exchanged  greetings  now  and  then  with 
men  of  all  nationalities  except  Genoese,  and  very  few 
of  these  last  were  to  be  seen,  for  they  kept  to  their  own 
quarter  beyond  the  Golden  Horn,  in  Pera.  But  Omo 
bono  would  not  stop  to  talk,  and  the  streets  were  clean 
here,  and  well  kept,  and  the  children  were  not  to  be  seen, 
so  that  he  could  walk  quickly,  without  picking  his  way. 

On  still,  and  farther  on;  through  the  almost  classic 
Forum  of  Constantine,  past  the  hill  on  which  the 
bronze-bound  porphyry  column  still  stands,  and  down 
on  the  other  side,  keeping  the  Hippodrome  on  his  left 
and  diving  into  the  Bokharian  quarter,  as  different  from 
the  last  through  which  he  had  come,  as  that  had  been 
from  those  he  had  passed  before.  For  then,  as  now, 


II  ARETHUSA  25 

Constantinople  was  a  patchwork  of  divers  nations  and 
languages  and  customs,  and  their  quarters  were  like 
distinct  towns,  —  some  filthy,  noisy  and  unhealthy, 
some  rich  and  stately,  some  quiet  and  poor,  some  asleep 
all  day  and  riotous  all  night,  others  silent  as  sleep  itself 
from  nightfall  till  dawn,  and  noisy  all  day  with  the  hum 
of  business  or  the  ceaseless  hammering  clang  and  clatter 
of  workmen's  tools. 

Before  Omobono  emerged  upon  the  little  square  which 
then  surrounded  the  churches  of  Saints  Sergius  and 
Bacchus  and  of  Saints  Peter  and  Paul  —  the  latter  is 
now  destroyed  —  he  heartily  wished  that  he  had  hired 
a  horse  and  man  at  one  of  the  street  corners;  but  he 
forgot  his  weariness  when  his  destination  was  reached, 
and  he  saw  a  little  bandy-legged  sacristan  in  an  absurdly 
short  cassock  of  shabby  black  and  purple  cloth,  leaning 
against  one  of  the  columns  of  the  portico. 

Omobono  ascended  the  broad  steps  that  led  up 
from  the  level  of  the  street,  as  though  he  were  going 
in,  but  just  as  he  was  close  to  the  sacristan  he  stopped, 
as  if  without  any  premeditation,  and  made  a  gesture  of 
salutation,  smiling  in  a  friendly  way. 

'  Praised  be  our  Lord,'  he  said,  in  the  Greek  manner. 

'Our  Lord  be  praised.  Amen/  answered  the  sacristan 
indifferently,  for  it  was  the  custom  to  do  so. 

'Could  you  inform  me,'  proceeded  the  Venetian  clerk, 
'whether  that  good  man  Kyrios  Rustan  Karaboghazji 
is  now  in  the  church  at  his  devotions?' 

The  sacristan  had  a  perfectly  round  head  with  a  pair 
of  very  small  round  eyes;  moreover,  his  snub  nose  was 


26  ARETHUSA 


CHAP. 


quite  round  at  the  end.  He  now  pursed  out  his  lips 
and  made  his  mouth  round,  too,  as  if  he  were  going  to 
whistle.  Intentionally  or  unintentionally,  he  made 
himself  look  like  an  idiot,  and  slowly  wagged  his  bullet 
head  as  if  he  did  not  understand. 

'The  church  is  open/  he  said,  at  last.     '  You  may  see/ 

Omobono  now  applauded  himself  for  having  asked  and 
obtained  a  password,  but  he  meant  to  be  cautious  in 
using  it. 

'Thank  you/  he  said  politely,  and  he  went  on,  into 
the  church. 

The  sun  was  low  and  cast  a  rich  light  through  the  open 
door,  full  upon  the  grating  and  closed  gate  of  the  sanc 
tuary,  and  the  gilt  and  burnished  bars  reflected  and. 
diffused  the  warm  rays,  like  a  glory  before  the  unseen 
high  altar.  Omobono  glanced  quickly  to  the  right  and 
left  as  he  passed  between  the  pillars,  but  he  saw  no  one. 
Farther  on,  before  him  and  under  the  wide  dome,  two 
women  in  brown  were  at  their  prayers,  the  one  kneeling, 
the  other  prostrate,  in  Eastern  fashion,  her  forehead  rest 
ing  on  the  marble  pavement.  There  was  no  man  in  sight. 

Omobono  chose  a  clean  spot,  hitched  up  his  cloak 
in  front  and  knelt  upon  one  knee.  He  crossed  himself 
and  said  a  little  prayer. 

'0  Lord/  he  prayed,  'grant  wealth  and  honour  to 
the  Most  Serene  Republic  and  give  Venice  the  victory 
over  the  Genoese.  Bless  Messer  Carlo  Zeno,  0  Lord, 
and  preserve  him  from  sudden  death.  Send  bread  to  the 
poor.  Give  Omobono  strength  to  resist  curiosity. 
For  ever  and  ever.  Amen.' 


ii  ARETHUSA  27 

It  was  not  a  very  eloquent  little  prayer  and  it  lacked 
the  set  forms  of  invocation  and  doxology  which  devout 
persons  use;  but  Omobono  had  made  it  up  for  himself 
long  ago,  and  said  it  every  day  at  least  once,  for  it  pre 
cisely  expressed  what  he  sincerely  wished  and  intended 
to  ask  with  due  humility;  and  he  was  a  good  man,  in 
spite  of  his  besetting  fault,  and  believed  that  what  he 
asked  would  be  granted.  As  yet,  Venice  had  not  tri 
umphed  over  those  unspeakable  dogs  of  Genoese,  though 
the  day  of  glory  was  much  nearer  than  even  the  Vene 
tians  dared  to  hope.  But  so  far  Carlo  Zeno  had  been 
preserved  from  sudden  death  in  spite  of  his  manifest 
tendency  to  break  his  neck  for  any  whim ;  for  the  rest, 
Omobono  had  more  than  once  been  the  means  of  saving 
poor  people  from  starvation,  though  at  some  risk  of  it 
to  himself,  poor  man ;  and  as  for  his  curiosity,  he  had  at 
least  kept  it  so  far  in  bounds  as  never  to  read  his  master's 
letters  until  his  master  had  opened  them  himself,  which 
was  something  for  Omobono  to  be  grateful  for.  On 
the  whole,  he  judged  that  his  small  prayer  was  not  un 
acceptable,  and  he  used  it  every  day. 

He  knelt  a  moment  after  he  had  finished  it,  partly 
because  he  was  a  little  ashamed  of  its  being  very  short 
though  he  never  could  think  of  anything  to  add  to  it, 
and  he  did  not  wish  people  to  think  that  he  was  irreverent 
and  gabbled  over  a  prayer  merely  as  a  form ;  for  he  was 
very  sensitive  about  such  things,  being  a  shy  man.  And 
partly  he  remained  on  his  knees  a  little  longer  because 
the  gilded  grating  was  very  handsome  in  the  light  of  the 
setting  sun,  and  reminded  him  of  the  grating  in  Saint 


28  AKETHUSA 


CHAP. 


Mark's,  and  that  naturally  made  him  think  of  heaven. 
But  presently  he  rose  and  went  out. 

The  sacristan  was  still  standing  by  the  same  pillar. 

'Kyrios  Rustan  is  not  in  the  church/  said  Omobono, 
stopping  again. 

Once  more  the  sacristan  seemed  to  be  about  to  purse 
his  lips  into  a  circle,  and  to  put  on  an  air  of  blank  stu 
pidity,  and  the  clerk  saw  that  the  time  had  come  to  use 
the  password. 

'I  must  see  him/  he  said,  dropping  his  voice,  but  speak 
ing  very  distinctly.  'I  beg  you  to  direct  me  by  four  toes 
and  five  toes,  so  that  I  may  find  him.' 

The  sacristan's  face  and  manner  changed  at  once. 
His  small  eyes  were  suddenly  full  of  intelligence,  his 
mouth  expanded  in  a  friendly  smile,  and  his  snub  nose 
seemed  to  draw  itself  to  a  point  like  the  muzzle  of  a  hound 
on  a  scent. 

'Why  did  you  not  say  that  at  once?'  he  asked. 
'Rustan  left  the  church  a  quarter  of  an  hour  before  you 
came,  but  he  is  not  far  away.  Do  you  see  the  entrance 
to  the  lane  down  there?' 

He  pointed  towards  the  place. 

'Yes/  said  Omobono,  'by  the  corner.' 

'Yes.  Go  into  that  lane.  Take  the  first  turn  to  the 
left,  and  then  the  second  to  the  right  again.  Before  you 
have  gone  far  you  will  find  Rustan  walking  up  and  down/ 

'Walking  up  and  down?'  repeated  Omobono,  sur 
prised  that  the  Bokharian  should  select  for  his  afternoon 
stroll  such  a  place  as  one  might  expect  to  find  in  the 
direction  indicated. 


ii  ARETHUSA  29 

'Yes.'  The  sacristan  grinned  and  winked  at  the 
Venetian  clerk  in  a  knowing  way.  '  He  is  a  devout  man. 
When  he  has  said  his  prayers  he  walks  up  and  down  in 
that  little  lane.' 

The  man  laughed  audibly,  but  immediately  looked 
behind  him  to  see  whether  any  one  coming  from  within 
the  church  had  heard  him,  for  he  considered  himself  a 
clerical  character.  Omobono  thanked  him  politely. 

1  It  is  nothing/  answered  the  sacristan.  l  A  mere  direc 
tion  —  what  is  it  ?  If  I  had  asked  you  for  your  purse 
and  cloak  by  four  toes  and  five  toes,  I  am  quite  sure  that 
you  would  have  given  me  both.' 

'  Of  course/  replied  Omobono  nervously,  seeing  that  the 
reply  was  evidently  expected  of  him.  'Of  course  I 
would.  And  so,  good-day,  my  friend.' 

1  And  good-day  to  you,  friend/  returned  the  sacristan. 

The  clerk  went  away,  devoutly  hoping  that  no  un 
known  person  would  suddenly  accost  him  and  demand 
of  him  his  cloak  in  the  name  of  four  toes  and  five  toes, 
and  he  wondered  what  in  the  world  he  should  do  if 
such  a  thing  happened  to  him.  He  was  quite  sure 
that  he  should  be  unable  to  hide  the  fact  that  he  knew 
the  magic  formula,  for  he  had  never  been  very  good  at 
deception;  and  if  the  words  could  procure  such  instant 
obedience  from  such  a  disagreeable  person  as  the  sacris 
tan  had  at  first  seemed  to  be,  some  dreadful  penalty  was 
probably  the  portion  of  those  who  disobeyed  the  man 
date. 

Thus  reflecting,  and  by  no  means  easy  in  his  mind,  the 
clerk  crossed  the  square  and  entered  the  lane.  He  had 


30  ARBTHUSA  CHAP. 

supposed  that  it  led  to  a  continuation  of  the  Bokharian 
quarter,  but  he  at  once  saw  his  mistake.  Even  now  a 
man  may  live  for  years  in  Constantinople  and  yet  be  far 
from  knowing  every  corner  of  it,  and  Omobono  found 
himself  in  a  part  of  the  city  which  he  had  never  seen. 
It  was  in  ruins,  and  yet  it  was  inhabited.  Few  of  the 
houses  had  doors,  hardly  any  window  had  a  shutter,  and 
as  he  passed,  he  saw  that  in  many  lower  rooms  the  light 
fell  from  above,  through  a  fallen  floor  and  a  broken 
roof  above  it. 

Yet  in  every  ruined  dwelling,  and  almost  at  every 
door,  there  was  some  one,  and  all  were  frightful  to  see ; 
all  were  in  rags  that  hardly  clung  together,  and  some 
could  scarcely  cover  themselves  modestly ;  one  was  blind, 
another  had  no  arms  or  no  legs,  another  was  devoured 
by  hideous  disease  —  many  were  mere  bundles  of  bones 
in  scanty  rags,  and  stretched  out  filthy  skeleton  hands 
for  alms  as  the  decently  dressed  clerk  came  near.  Omo 
bono  stood  still  for  a  moment  when  he  realised  that  he 
was  in  the  beggars'  quarter,  where  more  than  half  the 
dying  paupers  of  the  great  city  took  refuge  amidst  houses 
ruined  and  burnt  long  ago  when  the  Crusaders  had  sacked 
Constantinople,  and  never  more  than  half  repaired  since 
then. 

The  clerk  stood  still,  for  the  sight  of  so  much  misery 
hurt  him,  and  it  hurt  him  still  more  to  think  that  he  had 
but  very  few  small  coins  in  his  wallet.  The  poor  crea 
tures  should  have  them  all,  one  by  one,  but  there  would 
be  few  indeed  for  so  many. 

And  then,  as  he  took  out  a  little  piece  of  bronze  money, 


He  was  talking  with  an  old  beggar  woman. 


n  ARETHUSA  31 

he  heard  sounds  like  nothing  he  had  heard  before;  like 
many  hundred  sighs  of  suffering  all  breathed  out  to 
gether;  and  again,  like  many  dying  persons  praying  in 
low,  exhausted  voices ;  and  again,  like  a  gentle,  hopeless 
wail;  and  through  it  all  there  was  a  pitiful  tremor  of 
weakness  and  pain  that  went  to  the  clerk's  heart.  He 
could  do  very  little,  and  he  was  obliged  to  go  on,  for  his 
errand  was  pressing,  and  the  people  were  as  wretched  at 
one  door  as  they  would  be  at  the  next,  so  that  it  was  better 
not  to  give  all  his  coins  at  once.  He  dropped  one  here, 
one  there,  into  the  wasted  hands,  and  went  on  quickly, 
scarcely  daring  to  glance  at  the  faces  that  appeared 
at  the  low  doors  and  ruined  windows.  Yet  here  and 
there  he  looked  in,  almost  against  his  will,  and  he  saw 
sights  that  sent  a  cold  chill  down  his  back,  sights  I  have 
seen,  too,  but  need  not  tell  of.  And  so  he  went  on, 
turning  as  the  sacristan  had  instructed  him,  till  he  saw 
a  tall,  thin  man  in  a  brown  cloth  gown  edged  with  cheap 
fox's  fur,  and  having  a  tight  fur  cap  on  his  head.  He  was 
talking  with  an  old  beggar  woman,  and  his  back  was 
turned  so  that  Omobono  could  only  see  that  he  had  a  long 
black  beard,  but  he  recognised  Rustan,  the  Bokharian 
dealer.  The  house  before  which  the  two  were  standing 
seemed  a  trifle  better  than  the  rest  in  the  street;  there 
were  crazy  shutters  to  the  large  lower  windows,  which 
were  open,  however;  there  was  a  door  which  was  ajar, 
and  an  attempt  had  been  made  to  scrape  the  mud  from 
the  threshold.  For  the  street  was  damp  and  muddy  after 
the  spring  rains,  but  not  otherwise  very  dirty.  There  was 
no  garbage,  not  so  much  as  a  cabbage-stalk  or  a  bleaching 


32  ABETHTJSA 


CHAP. 


bone;  for  bones  can  be  ground  to  dust  between  stones 
and  eaten  with  water,  and  a  cabbage-stalk  is  half  a  dinner 
to  a  starving  man. 

In  spite  of  the  prayer  he  had  recently  offered  up 
against  his  besetting  fault  of  curiosity,  Omobono  could 
not  help  treading  very  lightly  as  he  came  up  behind  the 
Bokharian,  and  as  the  mud  was  in  a  pasty  state,  neither 
hard  nor  slimy,  his  heavy  boots  made  hardly  any  more 
noise  in  treading  on  it  than  a  beggar's  bare  feet.  In  this 
way  he  advanced  till  he  could  see  through  an  open  win 
dow  of  the  house,  and  he  stood  still  and  looked  in,  but 
he  made  as  if  he  were  politely  waiting  for  Rustan  to  turn 
round.  Either  the  old  beggar  woman  was  blind,  or  she 
thought  fit  not  to  call  the  Bokharian's  attention  to  the 
fact  that  a  well-dressed  stranger  was  standing  within 
a  few  feet  of  him.  The  two  talked  volubly  in  low  tones 
and  in  the  Bokharian  language,  which  Omobono  did 
not  understand  at  all,  and  when  he  was  quite  sure  that 
he  could  not  follow  the  conversation  he  occupied  his 
curiosity  in  watching  what  was  going  on  inside  the 
house.  The  window  was  low,  having  apparently  once 
served  as  a  shop  in  which  the  shopkeeper  had  sat,  in 
Eastern  fashion,  half  inside  and  half  out,  to  wait  upon 
his  customers.  During  half  a  minute,  which  elapsed 
before  Rustan  turned  round,  the  clerk  saw  a  good 
deal. 

In  the  first  place  his  eyes  fell  on  the  upturned  face  of  a 
woman  who  was  certainly  in  the  extremity  of  dangerous 
illness,  and  was  probably  dying.  She  had  been  beautiful 
once  and  she  had  beauty  still,  that  was  not  only  the  soft 


II  ARETHUSA  33 

shadow  of  coming  death.  The  wasted  body  was  covered 
with  nameless  rags,  but  the  pillow  was  white  and  clean  ; 
the  refined  face  was  the  colour  of  pure  wax,  and  the  dark 
hair,  grey  at  the  temples,  had  been  carefully  combed  out 
and  smoothed  back  from  the  forehead.  The  woman's 
eyes  were  closed,  and  deeply  shadowed  by  suffering,  but 
her  delicate  nostrils  quivered  now  and  then  as  she  drew 
breath,  and  her  pale  lips  moved  a  little  as  though  trying 
to  speak. 

There  were  young  children  round  the  wretched  bed, 
silent,  thin,  and  wondering,  as  children  are  when  the 
great  mystery  is  very  near  them  and  they  feel  it.  In  their 
miserable  tatters  one  could  hardly  have  told  whether 
the  younger  ones  were  boys  or  girls,  but  one  was  much 
older  than  the  rest,  and  Omobono's  eyes  fixed  themselves 
upon  her,  and  he  held  his  breath,  lest  the  Bokharian 
should  hear  him  and  turn,  and  hide  the  vision  and  break 
the  spell. 

The  girl  was  standing  on  the  other  side  of  the  sick 
woman,  bending  down  a  very  little,  and  watching  her 
features  with  a  look  of  infinite  care  and  sorrow.  One 
exquisite  white  hand  touched  the  poor  coverings  of  the 
bed,  rather  than  rested  on  them,  as  if  it  longed  to  be  of 
some  use,  and  to  relieve  the  woman's  suffering  ever  so 
little.  But  the  clerk  did  not  look  at  the  delicate  fingers, 
for  his  eyes  were  riveted  on  the  young  girl's  face.  It 
was  thin  and  white,  but  its  lines  were  beautiful  beyond 
comparison  with  all  that  he  had  ever  seen,  even  in  Venice, 
the  city  of  beautiful  women. 

I  think  that  true  beauty  is  beyond  description;  you 


34  ARETHTJSA 


CHAP 


may  describe  the  changeless,  faultless  outlines  of  a  statue 
to  a  man  who  has  seen  good  statues  and  can  recall  them; 
you  can  perhaps  find  words  to  describe  the  glow,  and 
warmth,  and  deep  texture  of  a  famous  picture,  and  what 
you  write  will  mean  something  to  those  who  know  the 
master's  work ;  you  may  even  conjure  up  an  image  before 
untutored  eyes.  But  neither  minute  description  nor 
well-turned  phrase,  neither  sensuous  adjective  nor 
spiritual  simile  can  tell  half  the  truth  of  a  beautiful 
living  thing. 

And  the  fairest  living  woman  is  twice  beautiful  when 
gladness  or  love  or  anger  or  sorrow  rises  in  her  eyes,  for 
then  her  soul  is  in  her  face.  As  Omobono  looked  through 
the  window  and  watched  the  beggar  girl  leaning  over 
her  dying  mother,  he  hardly  saw  the  perfect  line  of  the 
cheek,  the  dark  and  sweeping  lashes  or  the  deep  brown 
eyes  —  the  firm  and  rounded  chin,  the  very  tender  mouth, 
the  high-bred  nostrils  or  the  rich  brown  hair.  He  could 
not  clearly  recall  any  of  those  things  a  few  minutes  later ; 
he  only  knew  that  he  had  seen  for  once  something  he  had 
heard  of  all  his  life.  It  was  not  till  he  dreamt  of  her  face 
that  night  —  dreaming,  poor  man,  that  she  was  his 
guardian  angel  come  to  reprove  him  for  his  curiosity  — 
that  the  details  all  came  back,  and  most  of  all  that  brave 
and  tender  little  mouth  of  hers,  so  delicately  womanly 
and  yet  so  strong,  and  that  unspeakable  turn  of  the  cheek 
between  the  eye  and  the  ear,  and  that  poise  of  the  small 
head  on  the  slender  neck  —  the  details  came  back  then. 
But  in  the  first  moment  he  only  saw  the  whole  and  felt 
that  it  was  perfect ;  then,  for  an  instant,  the  eyes  looked 


II 


ABETHUSA  35 


at  him  across  the  dying  woman ;  and  in  a  moment  more 
the  Bokharian  turned,  caught  sight  of  him  and  came 
quickly  forward,  and  the  spell  was  broken. 

Rustan  Karaboghazji  held  out  both  hands  to  Omobono, 
as  if  he  were  greeting  his  dearest  friend,  and  he  spoke 
in  fluent  Italian.  He  was  a  young  man  still,  not  much 
past  thirty,  with  dark,  straight  features,  stony  grey  eyes, 
and  a  magnificent  black  beard. 

'What  happy  chance  brings  you  here?'  he  cried,  im 
mediately  drawing  the  Venetian  in  the  direction  whence 
the  latter  had  come.  '  Fortunate  indeed  is  Friday,  the 
day  of  Venus,  since  it  brings  me  into  the  path  of  my 
honoured  Ser  Omobono!' 

'  Indeed,  it  is  no  accident,  Kyrios  Rustan '  began 

Omobono. 

'  A  double  fortune,  then,  since  a  friend  needs  me/  con 
tinued  the  Bokharian,  without  the  slightest  hesitation. 
'  But  do  not  call  me  Kyrios,  Ser  Omobono !  First,  I  am 
not  Greek,  and  then,  my  honoured  friend,  I  am  no  Kyrios, 
but  only  a  poor  exile  from  my  country,  struggling  to  keep 
body  and  soul  together  among  strangers.' 

While  he  talked  he  had  drawn  Omobono's  arm  through 
his  own  and  was  leading  him  away  from  the  house  with 
considerable  haste.  The  Venetian  looked  back,  and  saw 
that  the  old  woman  had  disappeared. 

' I  have  a  message  from  my  master,'  he  said,  'but  before 

we  go  on,  I  should  like  to '  he  hesitated,  and  stopped 

in  spite  of  Rustan. 

'What  should  you  like  to  do?'  asked  the  latter,  with 
sudden  sharpness. 


36  AKETHUSA 


CHA1T. 


Omobono's  hand  felt  for  the  last  of  the  small  coins  in 
his  wallet. 

1 1  wish  to  give  a  trifle  to  the  poor  people  in  that  house/ 
he  said,  summoning  his  courage.  1 1  saw  a  sick  woman  — 
she  seemed  to  be  dying ' 

But  Rustan  grasped  his  wrist  and  held  it  firmly,  as 
if  to  make  him  put  the  money  back,  but  he  smiled  gently 
at  the  same  time. 

'No,  no,  my  friend/  he  answered.  'I  would  not  have 
spoken  of  it,  but  you  force  me  to  tell  you  that  I  have  been 
before  you  there !  I  take  some  interest  in  those  poor 
people,  and  I  have  just  given  enough  to  keep  them  for  a 
week,  when  I  shall  come  again.  It  is  not  wise  to  give 
too  much.  The  other  beggars  would  rob  them  if  they 
guessed  that  there  was  anything  to  take.  Come,  come ! 
The  sun  is  setting,  and  it  is  not  well  to  be  in  this  quarter 
so  late.' 

Omobono  remembered  how  the  sacristan  had  winked 
and  laughed,  when  he  had  spoken  of  Rustan's  walks  in 
the  dismal  lane,  and  the  Venetian  now  proceeded  to  draw 
from  what  he  had  seen  and  heard  a  multitude  of  very 
logical  inferences.  That  Rustan  was  an  utter  scoundrel 
he  had  never  doubted  since  he  had  known  him,  and  that 
his  domestic  life  was  perhaps  not  to  his  taste,  Omobono 
guessed  since  he  had  seen  the  red-haired  negress  who 
was  his  wife.  Nothing  could  be  more  natural  than  that 
the  Bokharian,  having  discovered  the  beautiful,  half- 
starved  creature  whom  Omobono  had  first  seen  through 
the  window,  should  plot  to  get  her  into  his  power  for  his 
own  ends. 


ii  ARETHUSA  37 

Having  reached  this  conclusion,  the  mild  little  clerk 
suddenly  felt  the  blood  of  a  hero  beating  in  his  veins 
and  longed  to  take  Karaboghazji  by  the  throat  and  shake 
him  till  he  was  senseless,  never  doubting  but  that  the 
cause  of  justice  would  miraculously  give  him  the  strength 
needed  for  the  enterprise.  He  submitted  to  be  hurried 
away,  indeed,  because  the  moment  was  evidently  not 
propitious  for  a  feat  of  knight-errantry ;  but  as  he  walked 
he  struck  his  cornel  stick  viciously  into  the  pasty  mud  and 
shut  his  mouth  tight  under  his  well-trimmed  grey  beard. 

'And  now/  said  Rustan,  drawing  something  like  a 
breath  of  relief  as  they  emerged  into  the  open  space 
before  the  church,  'pray  tell  me  what  urgent  business 
brings  you  so  far  to  find  me,  and  tell  me,  too,  how  you 
came  to  know  where  I  was/ 

Here  Omobono  suddenly  realised  that  in  his  deductions 
he  had  made  some  great  mistake ;  for  if  Rustan  had  been 
in  the  beggars'  quarter  for  such  a  purpose  as  the  Venetian 
suspected,  how  was  it  possible  that  he  should  have  left 
any  sort  of  directions  with  his  wife  and  the  sacristan 
for  finding  him,  in  case  he  should  be  wanted  on  some 
urgent  business?  Omobono,  always  charitable,  at 
once  concluded  that  he  had  been  led  away  into  judging 
the  man  unjustly. 

'Messer  Carlo  Zeno,  the  Venetian  merchant,  is  very 
anxious  to  see  you  this  very  evening/  he  said.  'From 
his  manner,  I  suspect  that  the  business  will  not  bear  any 
delay  and  that  it  may  be  profitable  to  you.' 

Rustan  smiled,  bent  his  head  and  walked  quickly, 
but  said  nothing  for  several  moments. 


38  ARETHUSA 


CHAP.  II 


'  Does  Messer  Zeno  need  money  ? '  he  asked  presently. 
'If  so,  let  us  stop  at  my  house  and  I  will  see  what  little 
sum  I  can  dispose  of.' 

Mild  as  Omobono  was,  an  angry,  contemptuous  answer 
rose  to  his  lips,  but  he  checked  it  in  time. 

'My  master  never  borrows,'  he  answered,  with  im 
mense  dignity.  'I  can  only  tell  you  that  so  far  as  I 
know  he  wishes  to  see  you  in  regard  to  some  commission 
with  which  a  friend  in  Venice  has  charged  him.' 

Rustan  smiled  more  pleasantly  than  ever,  and  walked 
still  faster. 

'We  will  go  directly  to  Messer  Zeno's  house,  then/ 
he  said.  'This  is  a  most  fortunate  day  for  buying  and 
selling,  and  perhaps  I  have  precisely  what  he  wants. 
We  shall  see,  we  shall  see!' 

Omobono's  thin  little  legs  had  hard  work  to  keep  up 
with  the  Bokharian's  untiring  stride,  and  though  Rustan 
made  a  remark  now  and  then,  the  clerk  could  hardly 
answer  him  for  lack  of  breath.  The  sun  had  set  and  it 
was  almost  dark  when  they  reached  Zeno's  house,  and 
the  secretary  knocked  at  the  door  of  his  master's  private 
room. 


CHAPTER  III 

WHEN  it  was  quite  dark  the  old  woman  came  back  with 
something  hidden  under  her  tattered  shawl,  and  Zoe  drew 
the  rotten  shutters  that  barely  hung  by  the  hinges  and 
fastened  them  inside  with  bits  of  rain-bleached  cord 
that  were  knotted  through  holes  in  the  wood.  She  also 
shut  the  door  and  put  up  a  wooden  bar  across  it.  While 
she  was  doing  this  she  could  hear  Anastasia,  the  crazy 
paralytic  who  lived  farther  down  the  lane,  singing  a  sort 
of  mad  litany  of  hunger  to  herself  in  the  dark.  It  was 
the  thin  nasal  voice  of  a  starving  lunatic,  rising  sharply 
and  then  dying  away  in  a  tuneless  wail :  — 

Holy  Mother,  send  us  a  little  food,  for  we  are  hungry ! 

Kyrie  eleeison!    Eleeison! 

Blessed  Michael  Archangel,  gives  us  meat,  for  we 
starve !  Eleeison ! 

0  blessed  Charalambos,  for  the  love  of  Heaven,  a  kid 
roasted  on  the  coals  and  good  bread  with  it !  Eleeison, 
eleeison !  We  are  hungry ! 

Holy  Sergius  and  Bacchus,  Martyrs,  have  mercy  upon 
us  and  send  us  a  savoury  meal  of  pottage !  Eleeison ! 
Pottage  with  oil  and  pepper !  Eleeison,  eleeison ! 

Holy  Peter  and  Paul  and  Zacharius,  send  your  angels 
with  fish,  and  with  meat,  and  with  sweet  cooked  herbs ! 
Eleeison,  let  us  eat  and  be  filled,  and  sleep !  Eleeison ! 
Spread  us  your  heavenly  tables,  and  let  us  drink  of  the 
good  water  from  the  heavenly  spring ! 

Oh,  we  are  hungry !  We  are  starving !  Eleeison ! 
Eleeison !  Eleeison ! 

39 


40  AEETHUSA 


CHAP. 


The  miserable,  crazy  voice  rose  to  a  piercing  scream, 
that  made  Zoe  shudder;  and  then  there  came  a  little 
low,  faint  wailing,  as  the  mad  woman  collapsed  in  her 
chair,  dreaming  perhaps  that  her  prayer  was  about  to  be 
answered. 

Zoe  had  shut  the  door,  and  there  was  now  a  little 
light  in  the  ruined  room;  for  Nectaria,  the  old  beggar 
woman,  had  been  crouching  in  a  corner  over  an  earthen 
pan  in  which  a  few  live  coals  were  buried  under  ashes, 
,and  she  had  blown  upon  them  till  they  glowed  and  had 
kindled  a  splinter  of  dry  wood  to  a  flame,  and  with  this 
she  had  lit  the  small  wick  of  an  earthen  lamp  which  held 
mingled  oil  and  sheep's  fat.  But  she  placed  the  light 
on  the  stone  floor  fio  shaded  that  not  a  single  ray  could 
fall  towards  the  door  or  the  cracked  shutters,  lest  some 
late  returning  beggar  should  see  a  glimmer  from  outside 
and  guess  that  there  was  something  to  get  by  breaking 
in  and  stealing;  for  they  were  only  three  women,  one 
dying,  one  very  old,  and  the  third  Zoe  herself,  and  two 
young  children,  and  some  of  the  beggars  were  strong  men 
who  had  only  lost  one  eye,  or  perhaps  one  hand,  which 
had  been  chopped  off  for  stealing. 

When  the  light  was  burning  Zoe  could  see  that  the 
sick  woman  was  awake,  and  she  poured  out  some  milk 
from  a  small  jug  which  Nectaria  had  brought,  and 
warmed  it  over  the  coals  in  a  cracked  cup,  and  held 
it  to  the  tired  lips,  propping  up  the  pillow  with  her 
other  hand.  And  the  sick  one  drank,  and  tried  to 
smile. 

Meanwhile  Nectaria  spread  out  the  rest  of  the  supplies 


Ill 


AKETHUSA  41 


she  had  brought  on  a  clean  board;  there  was  a  small 
black  loaf  and  three  little  fishes  fried  in  oil,  such  as  could 
be  bought  where  food  is  cooked  at  the  corners  of  the 
streets  for  the  very  poor.  The  two  children  gazed  at  this 
delicious  meal  with  hungry  eyes.  They  were  boys,  not 
more  than  seven  and  eight  years  old,  and  their  rags  were 
tied  to  them,  to  cover  them,  with  all  sorts  of  bits  of 
string  and  strips  of  torn  linen.  But  they  were  quite 
quiet,  and  did  not  try  to  take  their  share  till  Zoe  came 
to  the  board  and  broke  the  black  loaf  into  four  equal 
portions  with  her  white  fingers.  There  was  a  piece 
for  each  of  the  boys,  and  a  piece  for  Nectaria,  and  the 
girl  kept  a  piece  for  herself;  but  she  would  not  take  a 
fish,  as  there  were  only  three. 

"This  is  all  I  could  buy  for  the  money,'  said  Nectaria. 
'The  milk  is  very  dear  now.' 

'Why  do  you  give  it  to  me?'  asked  the  sick  woman, 
in  a  sweet  and  faint  voice.  'You  are  only  feeding  the 
dead,  and  the  living  need  the  food.' 

'Mother!'  cried  Zoe  reproachfully,  'if  you  love  us, 
do  not  talk  of  leaving  us !  The  Bokharian  has  promised 
to  bring  a  physician  to  see  you,  and  to  give  us  money 
for  what  you  need.  He  will  come  in  the  morning,  early 
in  the  morning,  and  you  shall  be  cured,  and  live !  Is  it 
not  as  I  say,  Nectaria  ? ' 

The  old  woman  nodded  her  head  in  answer  as  she 
munched  her  black  bread,  but  would  say  nothing,  and 
would  not  look  up.  There  was  silence  for  a  while. 

'  And  what  have  you  promised  the  Bokharian  ? '  asked 
the  mother  at  last,  fixing  her  sad  eyes  on  Zoe's  face. 


42  ARETHUSA  CHAP. 

'Did  ever  one  of  his  people  give  one  of  us  anything 
without  return  ? ' 

'I  have  promised  nothing/  Zoe  answered,  meeting  her 
mother's  gaze  quietly.  Yet  there  was  a  shade  of  effort 
in  her  tone. 

1  Nothing  yet/  said  the  sick  woman.  'I  understand. 
But  it  will  come  —  it  will  come  too  soon ! ' 

She  turned  away  her  face  on  the  pillow  and  the  last 
words  were  hardly  audible.  The  little  boys  did  not  hear 
them,  and  would  not  have  understood ;  but  old  Nectaria 
heard  and  made  signs  to  Zoe.  The  signs  meant  that  by 
and  by,  when  the  sick  woman  should  be  dozing,  Nectaria 
had  something  to  tell ;  and  Zoe  nodded. 

There  was  silence  again  till  all  had  finished  eating  and 
had  drunk  in  turn  from  the  earthen  jar  of  water.  Then 
they  sat  still  and  silent  for  a  little  while,  and  though  the 
windows  and  the  door  were  shut  they  could  hear  the 
mad  woman  singing  again :  — 

Eleeison !  Spread  heavenly  tables !  Eleeison !  We 
are  starving !  Eleeison !  Eleeison !  Eleeison ! 

The  sick  woman  breathed  softly  and  regularly.  The 
little  boys  grew  sleepy  and  nodded,  and  huddled  against 
each  other  as  they  sat.  Then  old  Nectaria  took  the  light 
and  led  them,  half  asleep,  to  a  sort  of  bunk  of  boards  and 
dry  straw,  in  a  small  inner  room,  and  put  them  to  bed, 
covering  them  as  well  as  she  could ;  and  they  were  soon 
asleep.  She  came  back,  shading  the  light  carefully 
with  her  hand;  and  presently,  when  the  sick  woman 
seemed  to  be  sleeping  also,  Nectaria  and  Zoe  crept 


in  ARETHUSA  43 

softly  to  the  other  end  of  the  room  and  talked  in  whis 
pers. 

'She  is  better  to-night/  said  the  girl. 

Nectaria  shook  her  head  doubtfully. 

'How  can  any  one  get  well  here,  without  medicine, 
without  food,  without  fire?'  she  asked.  'Yes  —  she 
is  better  —  a  little.  It  will  only  take  her  longer  to  die/ 

'She  shall  not  die/  said  Zoe.  'The  Bokharian  has 
promised  money  and  help.' 

'For  nothing ?  he  will  give  nothing/  Nectaria  answered 
sadly.  'He  talked  long  with  me  this  afternoon,  out  in 
the  street.  I  implored  him  to  give  us  a  little  help  now, 
till  the  danger  is  passed,  because  if  you  leave  her  she  will 
die.' 

'  Did  you  try  to  make  him  believe  that  if  he  would  help 
us  now  you  would  betray  me  to  him  in  a  few  days  ? ' 

'Yes,  but  he  laughed  at  me  —  softly  and  wisely  as 
Bokharians  laugh.  He  asked  me  if  one  should  feed  wolves 
with  flesh  before  baiting  the  pit-fall  that  is  to  catch  them. 
He  says  plainly  that  until  you  can  make  up  your  mind, 
we  shall  have  only  the  three  pennies  he  gives  us  every 
day,  and  if  your  mother  dies,  so  much  the  worse ;  and  if 
the  children  die,  so  much  the  worse ;  and  if  I  die,  so  much 
the  worse;  for  he  says  you  are  the  strongest  of  us  and 
will  outlive  us  all.' 

'It  is  true !'  Zoe  clasped  her  hands  against  the  wall 
and  pressed  her  forehead  against  them,  closing  her  eyes. 
'It  is  true/  she  repeated,  in  the  same  whisper,  'I  am  so 
strong ! ' 

Old  Nectaria  stood  beside  her  and  laid  one  wrinkled 


44  ARETHUSA  CHAP. 

cheek  to  the  cold  wall,  so  that  her  face  was  near  Zoe's, 
and  they  could  still  talk. 

'If  I  refuse/  said  the  girl,  quivering  a  little  in  her  dis 
tress,  '  I  shall  see  you  all  die  before  my  eyes,  one  by  one ! ' 

'Yet,  if  you  leave  your  mother  now '  the  old 

woman  began. 

'She  has  lived  through  much  more  than  losing  me/ 
answered  Zoe.  'My  father's  long  imprisonment,  his 
awful  death ! '  she  shuddered  now,  from  head  to  foot. 

Nectaria  laid  a  withered  hand  sympathetically  on  her 
trembling  shoulder,  but  Zoe  mastered  herself  after  a 
moment's  silence  and  turned  her  face  to  her  companion. 

'You  must  make  her  think  that  I  shall  come  back/ 
she  whispered.  '  There  is  no  other  way  —  unless  I  give 
my  soul,  too.  That  would  kill  her  indeed  —  she  could 
not  live  through  that ! ' 

'  And  to  think  that  my  old  bones  are  worth  nothing ! ' 
sighed  the  poor  old  woman;  she  took  the  rags  of  Zoe's 
tattered  sleeve  and  pressed  them  to  her  lips. 

But  Zoe  bent  down,  for  she  was  the  taller  by  a  head, 
and  she  tenderly  kissed  the  wrinkled  face. 

'  Hush ! '  she  whispered  softly.  '  You  will  wake  her 
if  you  cry.  I  must  do  it,  Ria,  to  save  you  all  from  death, 
since  I  can.  If  I  wait  longer,  I  shall  grow  thinner,  and 
though  I  am  so  strong  I  may  fall  ill.  Then  I  shall  be 
worth  nothing  to  the  Bokharian/ 

'  But  it  is  slavery,  child !  Do  you  not  understand  that 
it  is  slavery  ?  That  he  will  take  you  and  sell  you  in  the 
market,  as  he  would  sell  an  Arab  mare,  to  the  highest 
bidder?' 


She  tenderly  kissed  the  wrinkled  face. 


m 


ARETHUSA  45 


Zoe  leaned  sideways  against  the  wall,  and  the  faint 
light  that  shone  upwards  from  the  earthen  lamp  on  the 
floor,  fell  upon  her  lovely  upturned  face,  and  on  the  out 
lines  of  her  graceful  body,  ill-concealed  by  her  thin  rags. 

'Is  it  true  that  I  am  still  beautiful?'  she  asked  after 
a  pause. 

'Yes/  answered  the  old  woman,  looking  at  her,  'it  is 
true.  You  were  not  a  pretty  child,  you  were  sallow,  and 
your  nose ' 

Zoe  interrupted  her. 

'Do  you  think  that  many  girls  as  beautiful  as  I  are 
offered  in  the  slave  market  ? ' 

'Not  in  my  time/  answered  the  old  woman.  'When 
I  was  in  the  market  I  never  saw  one  that  could  compare 
with  you.' 

She  had  been  sold  herself,  when  she  was  thirteen. 

'  Of  course/  she  added,  '  the  handsome  ones  were  kept 
apart  from  us  and  were  better  fed  before  they  were  sold, 
but  we  waited  on  them  —  we  whom  no  one  would  buy 
except  to  make  us  work  —  and  so  we  saw  them  every 
day.' 

'He  says  he  will  give  a  hundred  Venetian  ducats  for 
me,  does  he  not?' 

'Yes;  and  you  are  worth  three  hundred  anywhere/ 
answered  the  old  slave,  and  the  tears  came  to  her  eyes, 
though  she  tried  to  squeeze  them  back  with  her  crooked 
ringers. 

The  sick  woman  called  to  the  two  in  a  weak  voice. 
Zoe  was  at  her  side  instantly,  and  Nectaria  shuffled  as 
fast  as  she  could  to  the  pan  of  coals  and  crouched 


46  ARETHUSA  CHAP. 

down  to  blow  upon  the  embers  in  order  to  warm  some 
milk. 

'I  am  cold/  complained  the  sufferer,  'so  cold!' 

Zoe  found  one  of  her  hands  and  began  to  chafe  it 
gently  between  her  own. 

'It  is  like  ice/  she  said. 

The  girl  was  ill-clothed  enough,  as  it  was,  and  the  early 
spring  night  was  chilly ;  but  she  slipped  off  her  ragged 
outer  garment,  the  long-skirted  coat  of  the  Greeks,  and 
spread  it  over  the  other  wretched  coverings  of  the  bed, 
tucking  it  in  round  her  mother's  neck. 

'  But  you,  child  ? '  protested  the  sick  woman  feebly. 

'I  am  too  hot,  mother/  answered  Zoe,  whose  teeth  were 
chattering. 

Nectaria  brought  the  warm  milk,  and  Zoe  lifted  the 
pillow  as  she  had  done  before,  and  held  the  cup  to  the 
eager  lips  till  the  liquid  was  all  gone. 

'It  is  of  no  use/  sighed  her  mother.  'I  shall  die.  I 
shall  not  live  till  morning.' 

She  had  been  a  very  great  lady  of  Constantinople,  the 
Kyria  Agatha,  wife  of  the  Protosparthos  Michael  Rhan- 
gabe,  whom  the  Emperor  Andronicus  had  put  to  death 
with  frightful  tortures  more  than  a  year  ago,  because  he 
had  been  faithful  to  the  Emperor  Johannes.  Until  her 
husband  had  been  imprisoned,  she  had  spent  her  life  in 
a  marble  palace  by  the  Golden  Horn,  or  in  a  beautiful 
villa  on  the  Bosphorus.  She  had  lived  delicately  and 
had  loved  her  existence,  and  even  after  all  her  husband's 
goods  had  been  confiscated  as  well  as  all  her  own,  she 
had  lived  in  plenty  for  many  months  with  her  children, 


Ill 


ARETHUSA  47 


borrowing  here  and  there  of  her  friends  and  relatives. 
But  they  had  forsaken  her  at  last ;  not  but  that  some  of 
them  were  generous  and  would  have  supported  her  for 
years,  if  it  had  been  only  a  matter  of  money,  but  it  had 
become  a  question  of  life  and  death  after  Rhangabe  had 
been  executed,  and  none  of  them  would  risk  being  blinded, 
or  maimed,  or  perhaps  strangled  for  the  sake  of  helping 
her.  Then  she  had  fallen  into  abject  poverty ;  her  slaves 
had  all  been  taken  from  her  with  the  rest  of  the  property 
and  sold  again  in  the  market,  but  old  Nectaria  had  hid 
den  herself  and  so  had  escaped ;  and  she,  who  knew  the 
city,  had  brought  Kyria  Agatha  and  her  three  children 
to  the  beggars'  quarter  as  a  last  refuge,  when  no  one 
would  take  them  in.  The  old  slave  had  toiled  for  them, 
and  begged  for  them,  and  would  have  stolen  for  them  if 
she  had  not  been  profoundly  convinced  that  stealing  was 
not  only  a  crime  punishable  at  the  very  least  by  the  loss 
of  the  right  hand,  but  that  it  was  also  a  much  greater 
sin  because  it  proved  that  the  thief  did  not  believe  in 
the  goodness  of  Providence.  For  Providence,  said  Nec 
taria,  was  always  right,  and  so  long  as  men  did  right,  men 
and  Providence  must  necessarily  agree ;  in  other  words, 
all  would  end  well,  either  on  earth  or  in  heaven.  But  to 
steal,  or  kill  by  treachery,  or  otherwise  to  injure  one's 
neighbour  for  one's  own  advantage,  was  to  interfere  with 
the  ways  of  Providence,  and  people  who  did  such  things 
would  in  the  end  find  themselves  in  a  place  diametrically 
opposite  to  that  heaven  in  which  Providence  resided.  Of 
its  kind,  Nectaria's  reasoning  was  sound,  and  whether 
truly  philosophical  or  not,  it  was  undeniably  moral. 


48  AKETHUSA  CHAP, 

Zoe  was  not  Kyria  Agatha's  own  daughter.  No 
children  had  been  born  to  the  Protosparthos  and  his 
wife  for  several  years  after  their  marriage,  and  at  last, 
in  despair,  they  had  adopted  a  little  baby  girl,  the  child 
of  a  young  Venetian  couple  who  had  both  died  of  the 
cholera  that  periodically  visited  Constantinople.  Kyria 
Agatha  and  Rhangabe  brought  her  up  as  their  own 
daughter,  and  again  years  passed  by ;  then,  at  last,  two 
boys  were  born  to  them  within  eighteen  months.  Michael 
Rhangabe's  affection  for  the  adopted  girl  never  suffered 
the  slightest  change.  Kyria  Agatha  loved  her  own 
children  better,  as  any  mother  would,  and  as  any  chil 
dren  would  have  a  right  to  expect  when  they  were  old 
enough  to  reason.  She  had  not  been  .unkind  to  Zoe, 
still  less  had  she  conceived  a  dislike  for  her ;  but  she  had 
grown  indifferent  to  her  and  had  looked  forward  with 
pleasure  to  the  time  when  the  girl  should  marry  and  leave 
the  house.  Then  the  great  catastrophe  had  come,  and 
loss  of  fortune,  and  at  last  beggary  and  actual  starva 
tion  ;  and  though  Zoe' 's  devotion  had  grown  deeper  and 
more  unselfish  with  every  trial,  the  elder  woman's 
anxiety  now,  in  her  last  dire  extremity,  was  for  her  boys 
first,  then  for  herself,  and  for  Zoe  last  of  all. 

The  girl  knew  the  truth  about  her  birth,  for  Rhan 
gabe  himself  had  not  thought  it  right  that  she  should  be 
deceived,  but  she  had  not  the  least  recollection  of  her 
own  parents;  the  Protosparthos  and  his  wife  had  been 
her  real  father  and  mother  and  had  been  kind,  and  it 
was  her  nature  to  be  grateful  and  devoted.  She  saw 
that  the  Kyria  loved  the  boys  best,  but  she  was  already 


m  ABETHUSA  49 

too  womanly  not  to  feel  that  human  nature  must  have 
its  way  where  the  ties  of  flesh  and  blood  are  concerned ; 
and  besides,  if  her  adoptive  mother  had  been  cruel  and 
cold,  instead  of  only  indifferent  where  she  had  once 
been  loving,  the  girl  would  still  have  given  her  life 
for  her,  for  dead  Rhangabe's  sake.  While  he  had 
lived,  she  had  almost  worshipped  him;  in  his  last 
agonies  he  had  sent  a  message  to  his  wife  and  children, 
and  to  her,  which  by  some  happy  miracle  had  been 
delivered;  and  now  that  he  was  dead  she  was  ready  to 
die  for  those  who  had  been  his;  more  than  that,  she 
was  willing  to  be  sold  into  slavery  for  them. 

She  stood  by  the  bedside  only  half  covered,  and  she 
tried  to  think  of  something  more  that  she  might  do,  while 
she  gazed  on  the  pale  face  that  was  turned  up  to  hers. 

'Are  you  warmer,  now?7  she  asked  tenderly. 

'  Yes  —  a  little.     Thank  you,  child/ 

Kyria  Agatha  closed  her  eyes  again,  but  Zoe  still 
watched  her.  The  conviction  grew  in  the  girl  that  the 
real  danger  was  over,  and  that  the  delicately  nurtured 
woman  only  needed  care  and  warmth  and  food.  That 
was  all,  but  that  was  the  unattainable,  since  there  was 
nothing  left  that  could  be  sold ;  nothing  but  Zoe' 's  rare 
and  lovely  self.  A  hundred  golden  ducats  were  a  for 
tune.  In  old  Nectaria's  hands  such  a  sum  would  buy 
real  comfort  for  more  than  a  year,  and  in  that  time  no 
one  could  tell  what  might  happen.  A  turn  of  fortune 
might  bring  the  Emperor  John  back  to  the  throne. 
He  had  been  a  weak  ruler,  but  neither  cruel  nor  ungrate 
ful,  and  surely  he  would  provide  for  the  widow  of  the 


50  AEETHUSA  CHAP. 

Commander  of  his  Guards  who  had  perished  in  torment 
for  being  faithful  to  him.  Then  Zoe's  freedom  might  be 
bought  again,  and  she  would  go  into  a  convent  and  live 
a  good  life  to  the  end,  in  expiation  of  such  evil  as  might 
be  thrust  upon  her  as  a  bought  slave. 

This  she  could  do,  and  this  she  must  do,  for  there  was 
no  other  way  to  save  Agatha's  life,  and  the  lives  of  the 
little  boys. 

1 A  little  more  milk/  said  the  sick  woman,  opening  her 
eyes  again. 

Nectaria  crouched  over  the  embers,  and  warmed  what 
was  left  of  the  milk.  Zoe,  watching  her  movements, 
saw  that  it  was  the  last;  but  Kyria  Agatha  was  surely 
better,  and  would  ask  for  more  during  the  night,  and  there 
would  be  none  to  give  her;  none,  perhaps,  until  nearly 
noon  to-morrow. 

Nectaria  took  the  pan  of  coals  away  to  replenish  it, 
going  out  to  the  back  of  the  ruined  house  in  order  to 
light  the  charcoal  in  the  open  air.  The  sick  woman  closed 
her  eyes  again,  being  momentarily  satisfied  and  warm. 

Zoe  sank  upon  her  knees  beside  the  bed,  forgetting  that 
she  was  cold  and  half-starved,  as  the  tide  of  her  thoughts 
rose  in  a  wave  of  despair. 

The  fitful  night  breeze  wafted  the  words  of  the  mad 
woman's  crooning  along  the  lane,  '  Eleeison !  Eleeison ! ' 

And  Zoe  unconsciously  answered,  as  she  would  have 
answered  in  church,  '  Kyrie  eleeison ! ' 

'  Blessed  Michael,  Archangel,  give  us  meat,  we  starve ! ' 
came  the  wild  song,  now  high  and  distinct. 

1  Kyrie  eleeison ! '   answered  Zoe  on  her  knees. 


in  ARETHUSA  51 

Then  she  sprang  to  her  feet  like  a  startled  animal. 
Some  one  had  knocked  at  the  door.  With  one  hand  she 
gathered  her  thin  rags  across  her  bosom,  the  other  un 
consciously  went  to  the  sick  woman's  shoulder,  as  if  at 
once  to  reassure  her  and  to  bid  her  be  silent. 

Again  the  knocking  came,  discreet  still,  but  a  little 
louder  than  before.  Nectaria  was  still  away  and  busy 
with  the  pan  of  coals,  and  the  sick  woman  heard  nothing, 
for  she  was  sound  asleep  at  last.  Zoe  saw  this,  and  drew 
her  bare  feet  out  of  her  patched  slippers  before  she  ran 
lightly  to  the  door. 

'Who  knocks?7  she  asked  in  a  very  low  tone,  clasping 
her  tattered  garment  to  her  body. 

The  Bokharian's  smooth  voice  answered  her  in  oily 
accents. 

'I  am  Rustan,'  he  said.  'I  am  suddenly  obliged  to  go 
on  a  journey,  and  I  start  at  dawn.' 

Zoe  held  her  breath,  for  she  felt  that  the  last  chance 
of  saving  her  mother  was  slipping  away. 

'Do  you  hear  me?'  asked  Rustan,  outside. 

'Yes.' 

'Will  you  make  up  your  mind?  I  will  give  half  as 
much  again  as  I  promised.' 

The  girl's  face  had  been  pale ;  it  turned  white  now,  for 
the  great  moment  had  come  very  suddenly.  She  made 
an  effort  to  swallow,  in  order  to  speak  distinctly,  and  she 
glanced  towards  the  bed.  Kyria  Agatha  was  in  a  deep 
sleep. 

'  Have  your  brought  the  money  with  you  ? '  Zoe  asked, 
almost  panting. 


52  AKETHTJSA  CHAP. 

'Yes.' 

The  hand  that  grasped  the  rags  to  keep  them  together 
pressed  desperately  against  her  heart.  While  Rustan 
could  have  counted  ten,  there  was  silence.  Twice  again 
she  looked  towards  the  bed  and  then,  with  infinite  pre 
caution,  she  slipped  out  the  wooden  bar  that  kept  the 
door  closed.  Once  more  she  drew  her  rags  over  her,  for 
they  had  fallen  back  when  she  used  both  her  hands.  She 
opened  the  door  a  little,  and  saw  Rustan  muffled  in  a 
cloak,  his  eager  face  and  black  beard  thrust  forward  in 
anticipation  of  entering.  But  she  stopped  him,  and  held 
out  one  hand. 

'My  mother  has  fallen  into  a  deep  sleep/  she  said. 
'Give  me  the  money  and  I  will  go  with  you.' 

Without  hesitation  Rustan  placed  in  her  outstretched 
hand  a  small  bag  made  of  coarse  sail-cloth,  and  closely 
tied  with  hemp  twine. 

'How  much  is  it?'  she  whispered. 

'One  hundred  and  fifty  gold  ducats,'  answered  the 
Bokharian  under  his  breath,  for  he  knew  that  if  he 
did  not  wake  the  sleeping  woman  there  would  be  less 
trouble. 

At  that  moment  Nectaria  came  back  from  within, 
with  the  pan  of  coals.  Zoe  caught  her  eye  and  held  out 
the  heavy  little  bag.  The  woman  stared,  looked  at 
Kyria  Agatha's  sleeping  face,  set  down  the  pan  upon  the 
floor,  and  came  forward. 

'  He  has  brought  the  money,  a  hundred  and  fifty  ducats/ 
Zoe  whispered,  forcing  the  bag  into  Nectaria's  trembling 
hands.  '  It  is  the  only  way.  Good-bye  —  quick  — • 


Ill 


AKETHUSA  53 


shut  the  door  before  she  wakes  —  tell  her  I  am  asleep  in 
the  straw  —  God  bless  you ' 

'Eleeison!  Eleeison!'  came  the  wail  of  the  mad 
woman  on  the  wind. 

Before  Nectaria  could  answer  Zoe  had  pulled  the  door 
till  it  shut  behind  her,  and  was  outside,  barefooted  on 
the  hardening  mud,  and  scarcely  covered.  She  said 
nothing  now,  and  Rustan  was  silent  too,  but  he  had  taken 
one  of  her  wrists  and  held  it  firmly  without  hurting  it. 
The  fleet  young  creature  might  make  a  dash  for  freedom 
yet,  foolish  as  that  would  be,  since  he  could  easily  force 
his  way  into  the  ruined  house  and  take  back  his  money 
if  she  escaped  him.  But  he  had  nearly  lost  a  young 
slave  once  before,  and  he  would  risk  nothing,  so  he  kept 
his  strong  hand  tightly  clasped  round  the  slender  wrist, 
though  Zoe  walked  beside  him  quietly  in  the  deep  gloom, 
thinking  only  of  covering  herself  from  his  gaze,  though 
indeed  he  could  scarcely  see  the  outline  of  her  figure. 

They  went  on  quickly.  For  the  last  time,  as  Rustan 
led  her  round  a  sharp  turn,  she  heard  the  wild  cry  of  the 
poor  mad  creature  she  had  listened  to  so  often  by  day 
and  in  the  dead  of  night.  Then  she  was  in  another 
street  and  could  hear  it  no  more. 

She  was  not  allowed  time  to  think  of  her  condition  yet. 
A  few  steps  farther  and  Rustan  stopped  short,  still  hold 
ing  her  fast  by  the  wrist,  and  she  saw  that  they  had  come 
upon  a  group  of  men  who  were  waiting  for  them.  One 
suddenly  held  up  a  lantern  which  had  been  covered, 
and  now  shed  a  yellow  light  through  thin  leaves  of  horn, 
and  Zoe  saw  that  he  was  a  big  Ethiopian,  as  black  as 


54  ARETHUSA 


CHAP. 


ebony.  She  drew  her  tatters  still  more  closely  over  her 
with  her  free  hand  and  turned  away  from  the  light,  as 
well  as  Rustan's  unrelaxing  hold  would  allow. 

A  moment  later  some  one  she  could  not  see  threw  a 
wide  warm  cloak  over  her  shoulders  from  behind  her,  and 
she  caught  it  gladly  and  drew  the  folds  to  her  breast. 

'Get  into  the  litter/  said  Rustan,  sharply  but  not 
loudly. 

There  was  nothing  soft  or  oily  in  his  tone  now.  He  had 
bought  her  and  she  was  a  part  of  his  property.  Four 
men  had  lifted  a  covered  palanquin  and  held  it  up  with 
the  small  open  door  just  in  front  of  her.  She  turned, 
sat  upon  the  edge,  and  bent  her  head  to  slip  into  the  con 
veyance  backwards,  as  Eastern  women  learn  to  do  very 
easily.  Rustan  held  her  wrist  till  she  was  ready  to  draw 
in  her  feet,  and  as  he  let  her  go  at  last  she  disappeared 
within.  He  instantly  closed  the  sliding  panel  and  fast 
ened  it  with  a  bronze  pin.  There  were  half-a-dozen  round 
holes  in  each  door  to  let  in  air,  not  quite  big  enough  to 
allow  the  passage  of  an  ordinary  woman's  hand. 

Zoe  sank  back  in  the  close  darkness  and  found  herself 
leaning  against  yielding  pillows  covered  with  soft  leather. 
The  palanquin  began  to  move  steadily  forwards,  hardly 
swaying  from  side  to  side,  and  not  rising  or  falling  at  all, 
as  the  porters  walked  on  with  a  smooth,  shuffling  gait, 
each  timing  his  step  a  fraction  of  a  second  later  than 
that  of  the  man  next  before  him ;  lest,  by  all  keeping  step 
together,  they  should  set  their  burden  swinging,  which  is 
intolerable  to  the  person  carried. 

Four  men  carried  the  litter,  a  fifth,  armed  with  an 


Ill 


ARETHTJSA  55 


iron-shod  staff,  went  before  with  the  lantern,  and  Rustan 
followed  after.  There  was  nothing  in  the  appear 
ance  of  the  party  to  excite  surprise  or  curiosity  in  a  city 
where  every  well-to-do  person  who  went  out  in  the  even 
ing  was  carried  in  a  palanquin,  and  accompanied  by  at 
least  two  trusty  servants.  For  that  matter,  too,  Rus- 
tan's  business  was  perfectly  legitimate,  and  it  concerned 
no  one  that  he  should  have  a  newly  bought  beauty 
carried  in  a  closed  litter  from  a  distant  quarter  of  the 
city  to  his  home. 

It  was  true  that  he  had  no  receipt  for  his  money, 
acknowledging  that  it  was  the  stipulated  price  paid  for 
a  full-grown  white  maid  between  eighteen  and  nineteen 
years  old,  with  brown  eyes,  brown  hair,  twenty-eight 
teeth,  all  sound,  and  a  pale  complexion;  who  weighed 
about  two  Attic  talents  and  five  minse,  and  measured 
just  six  palms,  standing  on  her  bare  feet.  In  strict  law, 
he  should  have  had  such  a  document,  signed  by  the 
father  or  mother  or  owner  of  the  slave,  but  he  knew  that 
he  was  quite  safe  without  it.  Like  all  Bokharians,  he 
was  a  profound  judge  of  human  nature,  and  he  was  quite 
sure  that  having  once  submitted  to  her  fate  Zoe  would  not 
cheat  him  by  claiming  the  freedom  she  had  sacrificed; 
moreover,  he  knew  that  the  adopted  daughter  of  Michael 
Rhangabe"  who  had  died  on  the  stake  in  the  Hippo 
drome  as  an  enemy  of  the  reigning  Emperor,  would  have 
but  a  small  chance  of  obtaining  justice,  even  if  she  at 
tempted  to  prove  that  she  had  been  carried  off  by  force. 
Rustan  Karaboghazji  felt  that  his  position  was  unassail 
able  as  he  followed  the  litter  that  carried  his  latest 


56  ABETHTJSA 


CHAP. 


bargain  through  the  winding  streets  of  Constantinople 
towards  the  narrow  lane,  one  side  of  which  was  formed 
by  that  mysterious  wall  which  had  but  one  door  in  it. 

He  was  well  pleased  with  his  day's  business,  for  he  was 
quite  sure  that  he  had  netted  a  handsome  profit.  Under 
his  cloak  he  held  a  string  of  beads  in  one  hand,  and  as  he 
walked  he  made  the  calculation  of  his  probable  gains, 
pushing  the  beads  along  the  string  with  his  thumb.  He 
had  paid  one  hundred  and  fifty  gold  ducats  for  Zoe; 
but  fifty  of  them  were  at  least  a  quarter  of  their  value 
under  weight,  so  that  the  actual  value  of  the  gold  was 
one  hundred  and  thirty-seven  and  a  half  ducats.  He  was 
quite  sure  that  Zeno  would  approve  the  purchase  on  a 
careful  inspection,  and  that  he  would  be  willing  to  give 
three  hundred  and  fifty  sequins,  though  the  girl  was  a 
little  over  age,  as  slaves'  ages  were  counted.  She  should 
have  been  between  sixteen  and  seventeen,  yet  she  was 
exceptionally  pretty,  and  spoke  three  languages  —  Greek, 
Latin,  and  Italian.  If  Zeno  paid  the  price,  the  clear 
profit  would  be  two  hundred  and  twelve  and  a  half 
ducats.  The  beads  worked  quickly  in  Rustan's  fingers, 
and  his  hard  grey  eyes  gleamed  in  the  dark.  Two 
hundred  and  twelve  and  a  half  on  one  hundred  and  thirty- 
seven  and  a  half,  by  the  new  Venetian  method  of  so 
much  in  the  hundred,  which  was  a  very  convenient  way 
of  reckoning  profits,  meant  one  hundred  and  fifty-four 
and  a  half  per  centum.  The  beads  worked  furiously, 
as  the  merchant's  imagination  carried  him  off  into  a 
mercantile  paradise  where  he  could  make  a  hundred  and 
fifty  per  cent  on  his  capital  every  day  of  the  year  except 


in  ABETHUSA  57 

Sundays  and  high  feast  days.  This  calculation  was 
complicated,  even  for  a  Bokharian  brain,  but  it  was  a 
delightful  one  to  follow  out,  and  Rustan's  blood  coursed 
pleasantly  through  his  veins  as  he  walked  behind  his 
purchase. 

He  had  lost  no  time  after  he  had  left  the  beggars' 
quarter  late  in  the  afternoon,  by  no  means  sure  that  Zoe 
meant  to  surrender  at  all,  and  very  doubtful  as  to  her 
doing  so  within  the  next  three  days.  Yet  he  had  boldly 
promised  that  Carlo  Zeno  should  see  her  on  approval  on 
the  following  morning.  After  all,  he  risked  nothing  but 
a  first  failure,  for  if  he  did  not  succeed  in  buying  Zoe  in 
time  he  could  nevertheless  show  the  Venetian  merchant 
some  very  pretty  wares.  Zeno  was  not  a  man  to  waste 
words  with  such  a  creature  as  a  slave-dealer,  and  the 
interview  had  not  lasted  ten  minutes.  It  had  taken 
longer  than  that  to  weigh  the  ducats  in  order  to  be  sure 
that  a  certain  number  of  them  were  under  weight.  The 
only  thing  Rustan  now  wished  was  that  he  had  put  many 
more  light  ones  into  the  bag,  since  it  had  not  even  been 
opened;  for  he  had  naturally  expected  to  be  obliged  to 
count  them  out  before  old  Nectaria,  who  had  a  born 
slave's  intelligence  about  money. 

Inside  the  litter  the  girl  lay  on  her  cushions  in  the 
dark,  wondering  with  a  sort  of  horror  at  what  she  had 
done.  She  had  thought  of  it  indeed,  through  many  days 
and  sleepless  nights,  and  she  did  not  regret  it ;  she  would 
not  have  gone  back,  now  that  she  had  left  plenty  and 
comfort  where  there  had  been  nothing  but  ruin  and 
hunger;  but  she  thought  of  what  was  before  her  and 


58  AKETHUSA 


CHAP. 


prayed  that  she  might  close  her  eyes  and  die  before  the 
morning  came,  or  better  still,  before  the  litter  stopped 
and  Rustan  drew  back  the  sliding  door. 

In  an  age  and  a  land  of  slavery,  the  slave's  fate  was 
familiar  to  her.  She  knew  that  there  were  public  mar 
kets  and  private  markets,  and  that  her  beauty,  which 
meant  her  value,  would  save  her  from  the  former;  but 
to  the  daughter  of  freeborn  parents  the  difference  be 
tween  the  one  and  the  other  was  not  so  great  as  to  be  a 
consolation.  She  would  be  well  lodged,  well  covered, 
and  well  fed,  it  was  true,  and  she  need  not  fear  cruel 
treatment;  but  customers  would  come,  perhaps  to 
morrow,  and  she  was  to  be  shown  to  them  like  a  valuable 
horse;  they  would  judge  her  points  and  discuss  her  and 
the  sum  that  Rustan  would  ask;  and  if  they  thought  the 
price  too  high  they  would  go  away  and  others  would 
come,  and  others,  till  a  bargain  was  struck  at  last.  After 
that,  she  could  only  think  of  death  as  the  end.  She 
knew  that  many  handsome  girls  were  secretly  sold  to 
Sultan  Amurad  and  the  Turkish  chiefs  over  in  Asia 
Minor  or  in  Adrianople,  and  it  was  more  than  likely  that 
she  herself  would  fare  no  better,  for  the  conquerors  were 
lavish  with  their  gold,  whereas  the  Greeks  were  either 
half-ruined  nobles  or  sordid  merchants  who  counted 
every  penny. 

The  men  carried  the  litter  smoothly  and  steadily, 
never  slackening  and  never  hastening  their  pace.  The 
time  seemed  endless.  Now  and  then  she  heard  voices 
and  many  steps,  with  the  clatter  of  horses'  hoofs,  which 
told  her  that  she  was  in  one  of  the  more  frequented  streets, 


Ill 


ARETHUSA  59 


but  most  of  the  time  she  heard  scarcely  anything  but  the 
shuffling  walk  of  the  men  in  their  heavy  sandals  and  the 
firmer  tread  of  Rustan's  well-shod  feet  where  the  road 
was  hard.  She  guessed  that  he  was  avoiding  the  great 
thoroughfares,  probably  because  the  people  who  thronged 
them  even  at  that  hour  would  have  hindered  the  progress 
of  the  palanquin.  Zoe  knew  as  well  as  the  dealer  that 
there  was  nothing  as  yet  in  the  transaction  which  need 
be  hidden;  possibly,  if  she  were  afterwards  sold  to  the 
Turks,  she  would  be  taken  across  the  Bosphorus  secretly, 
for  though  there  was  no  law  against  selling  Christian 
girls  to  unbelievers  the  people  of  the  city  looked  upon  the 
traffic  with  something  like  horror,  and  an  angry  crowd 
might  rescue  the  merchandise  from  the  dealer's  hands. 
Zoe  did  not  expect  that  rare  good  fortune,  for  Rustan 
was  not  a  man  to  run  any  risks  in  his  business. 

As  she  lay  among  her  cushions,  dreading  the  end  of  the 
journey,  but  gradually  wearying  of  the  future,  her 
thoughts  went  back  to  the  first  cause  of  all  her  mis 
fortunes,  of  Michael  Rhangabe's  awful  death,  of  all  the 
suffering  that  had  followed  them.  One  man  alone  had 
wrought  that  evil  and  much  more,  one  man,  the  reigning 
Emperor  Andronicus.  Zoe  was  not  revengeful,  not  cruel, 
very  far  from  bloodthirsty ;  but  when  she  thought  of  him 
she  felt  that  she  would  kill  him  if  she  could,  and  that  it 
would  only  be  justice.  Suddenly  a  ray  of  something 
like  hope  flashed  through  her  darkness.  Nectaria  had 
told  her  how  beautiful  she  was ;  perhaps,  being  so  much 
more  valuable  than  most  of  the  slaves  that  went  to  the 
market,  she  might  be  destined  for  the  Emperor  himself. 


60  ARETHUSA  CHAP,  m 

It  was  just  possible.  She  set  her  teeth  and  clenched  her 
little  hands  in  the  dark.  If  that  should  be  her  fate,  the 
usurper's  days  were  numbered.  She  would  free  her 
country  from  its  tyrant  and  be  revenged  for  Rhangabe's 
murder  and  for  all  the  rest  at  one  quick  stroke,  though 
she  might  be  condemned  to  die  within  the  hour.  That 
was  indeed  something  to  hope  for. 

The  litter  stopped  and  she  heard  keys  thrust  into  locks, 
and  felt  that  the  porters  turned  short  to  the  left  to  enter 
a  door.  Her  journey  through  the  city  was  at  an  end. 


CHAPTER  IV 

RUSTAN  stayed  behind  to  shut  the  outer  door,  and 
Zoe  felt  that  she  was  carried  as  much  as  twenty  paces 
forward  and  upwards  before  the  bearers  stood  still  at 
last.  Then  the  sliding  panel  opened,  letting  in  light, 
and  a  strange  voice  told  her  to  get  out.  She  turned  in 
side  the  palanquin  and  thrust  out  her  naked  feet.  As  she 
put  them  down,  expecting  to  touch  bare  earth  or  a  stone 
pavement,  they  rested  on  a  rough  carpet ;  at  the  same  in 
stant  she  sat  on  the  edge  of  the  litter  bending  her  head 
to  get  out  of  it  and  looking  round  curiously. 

Rustan  was  not  there,  and  in  his  place  she  saw  a  huge 
young  negress  with  flaming  red  hair  and  rolling  eyes, 
who  roughly  ordered  the  porters  to  take  away  the  palan 
quin  and  at  the  same  time  caught  Zoe's  wrist,  whether 
to  help  her  to  stand  upright  or  to  secure  her  person  it  was 
hard  to  say.  The  girl  was  much  more  fearless  than 
Omobono,  the  Venetian  secretary,  and  she  was  not 
frightened  by  the  gigantic  woman's  appearance,  as  he  had 
been.  In  getting  out  she  had  managed  to  gather  the 
cloak  round  her,  so  that  the  men  should  not  see  her  in  her 
rags;  for  there  was  light  in  the  large  room  where  she 
found  herself,  and  now  that  she  could  look  about  her  she 
saw  a  dozen  or  more  girls  and  young  women  standing  in 
small  groups  a  few  paces  behind  the  negress.  They 
surveyed  the  new  arrival  curiously,  but  with  different 

61 


62  ARETHTJSA 


CHAP. 


expressions.  Some  seemed  to  pity  her,  others  smiled  as 
if  to  welcome  her ;  one  good-looking  girl  had  noticed  that 
she  had  no  shoes,  and  her  lip  curled  contemptuously  at 
such  a  proof  of  abject  poverty,  for  she  herself  was  the 
daughter  of  a  prosperous  Caucasian  horse-thief  who  had 
brought  her  up  in  plenty  and  ease  in  order  that  she  might 
fetch  a  high  price.  The  bearers  had  now  left  the  room 
and  there  were  no  men  present.  Zoe  vaguely  wished 
that  they  would  come  back,  even  the  black  bearers  of 
the  litter,  for  she  felt  a  very  womanly  woman's  distrust 
of  her  own  sex,  where  so  many  who  were  strangers,  and 
possibly  not  well-disposed  to  her,  were  gathered  together 
to  look  at  her. 

The  negress  surveyed  her  critically  by  the  light  of  the 
large  bronze  lamp  that  stood  on  a  stand  beside  her, 
and  showed  her  sharp  teeth  in  an  approving  smile  that 
made  her  thick  upper  lip  roll  upwards  on  itself.  She 
took  the  cloak  from  Zoe's  shoulders  and  scrutinised  her 
half -clad  figure,  till  she  blushed  red.  Then  the  daughter 
of  the  Caucasian  horse-thief  laughed  rudely,  and  some  of 
the  others  tittered  while  the  negress  gently  pinched 
Zoe's  bare  arms  and  neck  to  judge  of  their  firmness  and 
of  her  general  condition.  Apparently  the  examination 
was  tolerably  satisfactory,  for  the  woman  nodded  and 
grinned  again.  As  yet  not  a  word  had  been  spoken  since 
she  had  dismissed  the  bearers,  but  now  she  turned 
towards  the  other  girls  and  called  two  of  them. 

1  Lucilla  and  Yulia,  you  shall  wait  on  her/  she  said  in 
Greek.  '  The  rest  of  you,  to  bed !  It  is  already  three 
hours  of  the  night.' 


iv  ARETHUSA  63 

Two  dark-skinned  girls  in  coarse  blue  linen  clothes 
came  forward  with  alacrity,  evidently  much  pleased  at 
being  chosen  for  the  office.  They  were  ordinary  slave- 
girls  of  fourteen  or  fifteen  years,  who  would  be  sold  for 
house-work,  and  had  no  pretensions  to  good  looks. 
Their  tightly  plaited  black  hair  was  compressed  into  the 
smallest  possible  space  at  the  backs  of  their  heads,  and 
they  wore  small  red  caps,  coarsely  embroidered,  but  neat 
and  fresh.  Their  faces  were  much  alike  though  they 
were  not  sisters.  Zoe  saw  instantly  that  they  were 
children  of  slaves  of  nondescript  breed  with  a  small 
admixture  of  African  blood,  of  the  race  that  swarmed 
in  Constantinople. 

'  Go  to  bed,  I  say ! '  cried  the  negress  to  the  others,  see 
ing  that  some  of  them  were  inclined  to  linger.  '  Be  off ! ' 

They  saw  her  hand  move  towards  the  whip  in  her 
girdle  and  they  ran  for  the  door,  crowding  on  each  other 
like  sheep  at  the  gate  when  the  dogs  drive  them  into  the 
fold.  Having  produced  this  desired  result,  the  negress 
turned  to  Zoe  again,  and  her  manner  suddenly  became 
caressing  and  almost  fawning. 

'You  are  mistress  here,  Kokona,'  she  said.  'These 
two  girls  shall  wait  on  you  while  our  humble  roof  is 
honoured  by  your  presence.  If  you  have  the  slightest 
cause  of  discontent  with  their  service,  only  tell  me,  and 
they  shall  be  taught  their  duty.' 

Again  her  hand  went  significantly  to  her  girdle,  and 
she  rolled  her  terrible  eyes.  The  two  maids  shrank  visibly 
at  a  threat  of  which  they  had  already  felt  the  meaning. 

Zoe  was  not  so  dull  as  to  misunderstand  the  negress' s 


64  AEETHUSA 


CHAP. 


manner.  The  favourite  slave  of  some  high  and  mighty 
personage,  of  the  Emperor  himself,  perhaps,  would  have 
power,  if  only  for  a  time,  and  the  wife  of  Karaboghazji 
lost  no  time  in  making  a  bid  for  such  patronage. 

'I  am  a  slave,  as  these  girls  are/  Zoe  answered,  laying 
a  kindly  hand  on  the  shoulder  of  the  one  nearest  to  her. 

Both  maids  gazed  up  into  her  face  with  a  sort  of 
wondering  gratitude. 

'I  am  here  to  be  sold,  just  as  you  are/  Zoe  added,  re 
turning  their  look.  The  negress  laughed  loudly,  for  she 
was  evidently  in  a  good  humour. 

1  Also  the  noble  peacock  and  the  sparrow  are  both  birds, 
though  the  feathers  are  different!'  she  cried.  'But 
the  Kokona  is  hungry  and  cold/  she  continued,  in  a  tone 
of  servile  anxiety  for  Zoe's  comfort.  '  Will  she  not  per 
haps  take  a  bath  and  change  her  clothes  before  supper  ? 
Everything  is  ready.' 

'I  have  supped/  answered  Zoe,  who  had  eaten  a  piece 
of  black  bread, '  but  as  for  clothes,  I  should  like  to  put  on 
the  cloak  again,  for  I  feel  cold.' 

She  had  hardly  spoken  before  the  two  maids  had 
wrapped  her  in  the  warm  mantle. 

'  Thank  you/  she  said  to  them,  and  she  turned  to 
the  negress.  'You  seem  to  be  mistress  here.  May  I 
go  to  bed  now?' 

'  Yes,  I  am  the  mistress/  answered  the  African  woman, 
all  her  teeth  gleaming  in  the  lamplight.  'I  am  Rust  an 
Karaboghazji's  wife,  Kokona.' 

Zoe  could  not  repress  a  movement  of  surprise.  The 
negress  laughed. 


IV  ARETHUSA  65 

'Rustan  is  a  wise  man,'  she  said  with  a  tremendous 
grin.  '  It  is  cheaper  to  marry  one  woman  with  a  strong 
hand  than  to  keep  a  couple  of  smooth-faced  thieves  for 
gaolers,  as  most  of  the  people  in  our  business  do.  If  the 
Kokona  will  please  to  follow  me  I  will  show  her  the  room 
I  have  prepared.' 

Zoe  bent  her  head  and  followed,  for  the  negress  was 
already  leading  the  way.  They  entered  a  room  of  fair 
dimensions  which  had  evidently  been  got  ready  with 
considerable  care,  for  it  contained  everything  that  a 
woman  accustomed  to  comfort  could  require.  A  good 
Persian  carpet  covered  the  floor;  a  narrow,  but  hand 
somely  chiselled  bronze  bedstead  was  furnished  with  two 
mattresses,  spotless  linen,  and  a  warm  coverlet  of  silk  and 
wool ;  on  a  marble  table  stood  a  little  mirror  of  polished 
metal,  before  which  lay  two  ivory  combs  and  a  number 
of  ivory  and  silver  hairpins  and  other  little  things  need 
ful  for  a  woman's  toilet;  there  stood  also  a  gilt  lamp 
with  three  beaks,  which  shed  a  pleasant  light  upon 
everything ;  a  low  curtained  door  at  the  end  of  the  room 
gave  access  to  the  small  bathroom,  where  another  little 
lamp  was  burning.  The  negress  drew  the  curtain  back 
and  showed  the  place  to  Zoe,  who  had  certainly  not  ex 
pected  to  spend  her  first  night  of  slavery  in  such  luxurious 
quarters.  Rustan's  wife  opened  a  large  wardrobe,  too, 
and  showed  her  a  plentiful  supply  of  fine  linen  and  clothes, 
neatly  folded  and  lying  on  shelves.  In  the  middle  of 
the  room  a  round  table  was  prepared  with  three  dishes, 
one  containing  some  small  cold  birds,  another  a  salad, 
and  a  third  mixed  sweetmeats,  and  there  was  also  wine 


66  ARETHUSA  CHAP. 

and  water  in  small  silver  flagons,  and  one  silver  drink- 
ing-cup.  It  was  long  indeed  since  Zoe  had  seen  anything 
like  this,  and  her  eyes  smarted  suddenly  when  she  real 
ised  that  the  slave-dealer's  prison  reminded  her  faintly 
of  her  old  home.  For  it  was  a  prison  after  all ;  she 
guessed  that  beyond  the  shutters  of  the  closed  window 
there  were  stout  iron  bars,  and  as  she  had  entered  she 
had  seen  a  big  key  in  the  lock  on  the  outside  of  the 
door. 

'It  is  late/  said  the  negress,  when  she  had  shown 
everything.  'The  girls  will  sleep  on  the  floor,  for  the 
carpet  is  good  and  there  are  two  blankets  for  them,  there 
in  the  corner.  Good-night,  Kokona.  By  what  name 
shall  I  call  the  Kokona?  The  Kokona  will  excuse  her 
servant's  ignorance ! ' 

Zoe  hesitated  a  moment.  She  had  not  thought  of 
changing  her  name,  but  now  she  felt  all  at  once  that  as  a 
slave  she  must  cut  off  all  connection  with  her  former  life. 
What  if  the  personage  who  was  to  buy  her  should  turn 
out  to  have  known  her  mother,  and  even  herself,  and 
should  recognise  her  by  her  name?  A  resemblance  of 
face  could  be  explained  away,  but  her  face  and  her  name 
together  would  certainly  betray  her.  It  was  not  so 
much  that  she  feared  the  open  shame  of  being  recog 
nised  as  Michael  Rhangabe's  adopted  daughter;  she 
had  grown  used  to  the  meaning  of  the  word  slavery 
during  those  last  desperate  days.  But  people  would  not 
fail  to  say  that  Kyria  Agatha  had  sold  her  adopted  daugh 
ter  into  slavery  in  order  to  save  herself  and  her  own 
children  from  misery.  Zoe  could  prevent  that,  and  she 


'Yes,'  replied  the  negress.     '  Rustan  is  very  affectionate.     He  says  that  I  a 
Zoe,  his  "  life,"  hecause  he  would  surely  die  of  starvation  without  me!  ' 


his 


iv  ARETHUSA  67 

only  hesitated  long  enough  to  choose  the  name  by  which 
she  was  to  be  known. 

'Call  me  Arethusa,'  she  said. 

Her  thoughts  had  flown  back  to  the  deed  of  justice  she 
meant  to  do  if  she  should  ever  be  near  the  Emperor 
Andronicus;  and  if  Arete  had  come  later  to  mean  virtue, 
it  had  meant  courage  first,  manly,  unflinching  courage; 
and  as  Zoe  was  only  a  Greek  girl  and  not  a  German 
professor,  she  naturally  supposed  that  Arete  was  the 
very  word  from  which  Arethusa  was  derived. 

'It  is  a  fine  name,'  observed  her  gaoler  obsequiously. 

'And  what  shall  I  call  you?'  asked  Zoe. 

'I  am  Kyria  Karaboghazji.'  The  negress  tossed  her 
flaming  head  and  smiled  with  satisfied  vanity.  '  My  hus 
band  calls  me  Zoe,'  she  added,  with  an  amazing  smirk, 
and  some  affectation  of  shyness. 

'  Zoe ! '  The  high-born  girl  repeated  her  own  name  in 
genuine  astonishment. 

'  Yes/  replied  the  negress.  '  Rustan  is  very  affectionate. 
He  says  that  I  am  his  Zoe,  his  "life,"  because  he  would 
surely  die  of  starvation  without  me ! ' 

'I  see,'  said  the  Greek  girl. 

She  would  not  have  believed  that  before  lying  down  in 
her  prison  that  night  she  would  be  forced  to  make  an 
effort  to  suppress  a  laugh. 

'And  now  it  is  growing  late,'  said  the  negress  again, 
'and  Rustan  is  wondering  why  I  do  not  come  to  comb 
his  beard  and  smooth  his  pillow,  and  prepare  his  drink 
for  the  night.  Good-night,  Kokona  Arethusa!  May 
Holy  Charalambos  send  you  dreams  of  delight!7 


68  ARETHUSA 


CHAP. 


1  And  to  you  also,  Kyria  Karaboghazji/  Zoe  answered, 
though  the  form  of  the  woman's  salutation  was  new  to 
her. 

The  negress  went  out,  still  much  pleased  with  herself, 
and  swaying  her  massive  hips  as  she  walked.  She  shut 
the  door,  and  Zoe  heard  the  big  key  move  in  the 
lock. 

The  two  slave-girls  had  stood  at  a  respectful  distance 
throughout  the  conversation,  their  hands  crossed  sub 
missively  and  their  eyes  bent  on  the  floor,  for  Rustan's 
wife  had  already  taught  them  manners  in  order  to  im 
prove  their  price.  But  she  was  no  sooner  gone  than  they 
looked  at  each  other,  and  their  lips  began  to  twitch 
nervously;  in  another  moment  they  were  both  seized 
with  a  convulsion  of  silent  laughter.  They  shook  from 
head  to  foot,  they  held  their  sides,  they  bent  and  swayed, 
and  twisted  their  hands  together,  but  not  a  sound  es 
caped  their  lips.  Beyond  this,  they  could  not  control 
their  mirth,  and  while  they  laughed  they  looked  anx 
iously  at  Zoe. 

She  herself  could  not  help  smiling  when  she  thought 
of  the  negress's  enormous  self-satisfaction,  but  presently 
she  shook  her  head  at  the  girls  and  laid  her  finger  on  her 
lips.  Their  amusement  subsided  quickly,  for  though  she 
seemed  kind,  they  knew  what  they  had  to  expect  if  one 
word  from  her  should  expose  them  to  the  negress's 
displeasure. 

Zoe  was  very  tired,  now  that  the  great  sacrifice  was 
made,  and  she  let  the  slave-girls  help  her  as  much  as  they 
would.  They  even  made  her  eat  something  and  drink 


IV 


AKETHUSA  69 


a  little  water.  Now  and  then,  when  they  looked  up  at 
her,  she  patted  them  on  the  shoulder  and  smiled  faintly, 
but  her  thoughts  were  far  away  in  the  ruined  house  in 
the  beggars'  quarter.  When  the  girls  had  helped  her  in 
the  bath  and  had  dried  her  feet  that  had  been  stained 
with  mud  and  blue  with  the  cold,  they  chafed  them  with 
their  hands  and  kissed  them. 

'They  are  like  two  little  white  mice!'  said  Yulia, 
laughing  softly. 

'  No,  they  are  like  young  doves ! '  said  Lucilla. 

And  they  each  slipped  one  of  her  feet  into  a  slipper  of 
deerskin;  and  then  they  clothed  her  for  the  night,  in 
fine  dry  linen  and  a  small  green  silk  jacket.  They  were 
skilful  with  their  hands  though  they  were  still  so  young, 
and  she  let  them  do  what  they  thought  she  needed,  and 
lay  down  at  last,  to  be  covered  and  tucked  in  as  warmly 
and  comfortably  as  when  Kyria  Agatha  used  to  put  her 
to  bed,  before  the  boys  had  been  born  and  had  taken  her 
place. 

In  a  few  minutes  the  little  maids  had  put  out  the  lamp, 
leaving  only  the  small  light  in  the  bath;  then  they 
noiselessly  devoured  all  the  sweetmeats  left  on  the  table, 
after  which  they  curled  themselves  upon  the  carpet  under 
their  blankets  and  were  asleep  in  a  moment,  like  young 
animals. 

For  a  few  moments  Zoe  still  tried  to  think;  tired 
though  she  was,  she  hated  herself  for  being  able  to  rest 
in  such  comfort  while  Kyria  Agatha  was  perhaps  awake 
under  her  pile  of  rags,  and  Nectaria  was  hugging  the 
straw  to  keep  a  little  warmth  in  her  old  body.  But  then 


70  ARETHUSA  CHAP. 

she  thought  of  the  morrow,  and  of  all  that  Nectaria 
would  do  with  the  gold  for  the  sick  woman  and  the  little 
boys,  and  in  this  soothing  reflexion  she  was  borne  softly 
away  out  of  this  world  of  slavery,  through  the  ivory  gates 
to  the  infinite  gardens  of  dreamland. 

She  was  waked  by  the  sunshine  streaming  into  the 
room  through  the  window,  and  as  she  opened  her  eyes 
she  saw  the  iron  bars,  and  remembered  where  she  was. 
She  sighed,  for  she  had  been  happy  in  her  sleep.  The 
girls  were  sitting  cross-legged  on  the  carpet,  side  by  side, 
at  a  little  distance,  silently  awaiting  her  pleasure.  She 
turned  her  head  on  the  pillow  and  lay  on  one  side,  look 
ing  at  their  small  dark  faces;  but  she  did  not  speak  to 
them  yet.  They  were  very  much  alike,  she  thought, 
commonplace  girls,  differing  so  little  from  thousands  of 
other  young  slaves  in  the  great  city,  that  it  would  be 
hard  for  her  to  recognise  them,  if  she  should  not  see 
them  for  a  few  days.  They  would  be  disposed  of  soon, 
of  course,  for  there  was  always  a  demand  for  healthy 
young  house  slaves  who  had  been  properly  taught. 
She  envied  them  their  homely  features,  their  coarse 
black  hair,  their  angular  figures,  their  sallow  cheeks, 
and  their  cunning  little  black  eyes.  They  could  only 
be  sold  as  workers.  All  her  life  Zoe  had  heard  the 
price  of  house-slaves  discussed,  even  more  freely  than 
the  price  of  clothes  or  jewels,  and  she  knew  that 
neither  of  the  girls  was  worth  more  than  five-and- 
twenty  ducats.  She  wondered  what  Rustan  meant  to 
ask  for  herself;  he  would  certainly  not  demand  less 
than  double  the  sum  he  had  paid. 


IV 


ARETHUSA  71 


While  she  was  reflecting  on  these  questions,  and  wish 
ing  all  the  time  that  she  might  have  news  of  Kyria 
Agatha  during  the  day,  the  big  key  moved  in  the  Persian 
lock.  The  two  girls  sprang  to  their  feet  and  stood  in  a 
respectful  attitude,  Zoe  turned  her  eyes  as  she  heard 
the  sound,  the  door  opened,  and  the  negress's  flaming  head 
appeared  in  the  sunlight.  She  saw  that  Zoe  was  awake, 
and  she  entered  the  room,  shutting  the  door  behind  her. 
She  greeted  her  valuable  prisoner  in  the  half-familiar, 
half-obsequious  tone  she  had  adopted  from  the  first, 
asking  her  how  she  had  slept,  and  whether  the  little 
maids  had  done  their  duty.  The  latter  question  was  ac 
companied  by  a  fierce  look  at  the  two  girls.  Zoe  an 
swered  that  they  were  most  skilful  and  well  behaved. 
The  negress  looked  at  the  remains  of  the  supper  on  the 
table. 

'So  the  Kokona  Arethusa  is  fond  of  sweetmeats/ 
she  observed.  '  She  eats  only  a  mouthful  from  one  bird 
and  all  the  sugar-plums ! ' 

Zoe  was  on  the  point  of  uttering  an  exclamation  of 
surprised  denial,  when  she  met  the  terrified  eyes  of  the 
two  slave-girls  and  checked  herself  with  a  smile. 

'I  am  very  fond  of  sweets/  she  answered  care 
lessly. 

The  black  woman  seemed  satisfied  and  turned  from 
the  table.  She  opened  the  wardrobe  next,  and  selected 
what  she  considered  the  handsomest  of  the  dresses  that 
lay  folded  on  the  shelves  within.  Zoe  watched  her 
curiously.  She  unfolded  garments  of  apple-green  silk, 
and  one  of  peach-coloured  Persian  velvet  embroidered 


72  AEETHUSA  CHAP. 

with  silver,  with  a  sash  of  plaited  green  silk  and  gold 
threads.  The  two  girls  took  the  things  from  her  and 
laid  them  out. 

'Surely/  Zoe  said,  'you  do  not  wish  me  to  wear  those 
clothes!' 

'They  are  very  good  clothes/  observed  the  negress 
coaxingly.  'Look  at  this  velvet  coat!  There  are  even 
seed-pearls  in  the  embroidery,  and  it  is  quite  new  and 
fresh.  My  husband  bought  it  from  the  Blachernse  palace, 
when  Handsome  John  was  imprisoned.  It  belonged  to 
one  of  the  favourite  ladies.  The  slaves  who  ran  away 
stole  all  the  things  and  sold  them.' 

'I  would  rather  wear  something  plainer/  said  Zoe; 
but  at  the  mention  of  the  captive  Emperor  her  brown 
eyes  had  grown  very  dark  and  hard,  and  her  voice  al 
most  trembled. 

'Kokona  Arethusa  must  look  her  best  this  morning/ 
objected  Rustan's  wife.  'She  will  receive  a  visit.' 

Zoe  started  a  little,  and  instinctively  drew  the  bed 
clothes  up  to  her  chin. 

'Already!'  she  exclaimed  in  a  low  tone. 

The  negress  grinned  from  ear  to  ear. 

'The  Kokona  will  perhaps  not  spend  another  night 
under  our  humble  roof/  she  said.  'I  do  not  know  any 
thing  certainly  as  yet,  because  the  customer  has  not 
seen  you/  she  continued  more  familiarly,  'but  Rustan 
has  consulted  the  astrologer,  who  says  that  these  are 
fortunate  days  for  our  buying  and  our  selling.  So  I 
do  not  doubt  but  that  the  customer  will  be  pleased  with 
your  looks,  Kokona,  for  indeed,  though  I  do  not  wish 


IV 


ARETHUSA  73 


to  flatter  you,  we  have  not  entertained  such  a  beauty 
in  our  modest  home  for  a  long  time ! ' 

All  this  was,  of  course,  intended  to  put  Zoe  in  a  good 
humour,  in  order  that  she  might  produce  an  agreeable 
impression  on  the  expected  purchaser.  Rustan  had 
once  missed  a  very  good  bargain  because  the  merchandise 
had  burst  into  tears  at  the  wrong  moment. 

'What  sort  of  person  is  the  customer?'  asked  the  girl. 
'Do  you  know  who  he  is?' 

She  asked  the  question  quietly,  but  she  held  her  breath 
as  she  waited  for  the  reply. 

'I  forget  his  name/  answered  the  negress  after  a 
moment's  thought.  'He  is  a  foreigner,  a  rich  young 
merchant  who  lives  in  a  fine  house  by  the  Golden 
Horn.' 

'A  Christian,  then?'  Zoe  asked,  controlling  her 
voice. 

The  other  pretended  to  be  shocked. 

'Does  the  Kokona  Arethusa  believe  that  Rustan 
would  be  so  wicked  as  to  sell  a  Christian  maid  to  the 
Turks?  Rustan  is  a  very  devout  man,  Kokona!  He 
would  not  do  such  an  irreligious  thing ! ' 

Zoe  remembered  the  allowance  of  three  copper  pennies 
daily,  and  how  he  had  driven  her  to  sell  herself  for  Kyria 
Agatha's  sake ;  but  she  did  not  care  to  impugn  Rus tan's 
piety. 

'So  the  astrologer  says  that  I  shall  be  sold  to-day/ 
she  observed  with  an  affectation  of  carelessness,  though 
her  heart  was  sinking,  and  she  felt  a  little  sick.  'Is  he 
a  great  astrologer?' 


74  ARETHUSA  CHAP. 

'He  is  Rustan's  friend,  Gorlias  Pietrogliant,'  an 
swered  the  negress,  who  was  now  turning  over  certain 
fine  linen  in  the  wardrobe.  'Yes,  he  is  a  good  star- 
gazer,  especially  for  merchants.  He  is  very  poor,  but 
many  have  grown  rich  through  consulting  him.' 

She  found  what  she  wanted,  and  held  up  a  beautifully 
embroidered  garment  of  linen  as  fine  as  a  web. 

'And  if  you  are  so  fortunate  as  to  go  to  the  rich  mer 
chant's  house/  she  added,  'you  may  win  favour  of  him 
by  telling  him  to  consult  Gorlias  about  his  affairs  when 
ever  he  is  in  doubt.7 

'Gorlias.'  Zoe  repeated  the  name,  for  she  had  never 
heard  it. 

'Gorlias  Pietrogliant,  who  lives  near  the  church  of 
Saint  Sergius  and  Saint  Bacchus.  Every  one  in  that 
quarter  knows  him.' 

'I  shall  remember,'  Zoe  said. 

She  understood  at  last  why  Rustan  had  been  in  the 
habit  of  going  often  to  that  church,  where  she  had  been 
kneeling  in  a  dark  corner  when  he  had  first  seen  her. 
Thence  he  had  followed  her  to  the  ruined  house.  But 
she  did  not  know  that  it  was  part  of  his  regular  business 
to  frequent  the  churches  of  the  poorest  quarters,  be 
cause  it  was  there  that  starving  girls  were  most  often  to 
be  seen,  praying  to  heaven  for  the  bread  that  so  rarely 
came  from  that  direction.  Many  a  good  bargain  had 
Rustan  made  by  following  a  poor  little  ragged  figure 
with  a  pretty  face  to  a  den  of  misery,  and  he  was  a  perfect 
expert  in  doling  out  alms  until  his  victim  yielded  or  was 
forced  to  yield  by  her  parents,  for  a  handful  of  gold; 


iv  ARETHUSA  .  75 

nor  has  his  method  of  conducting  the  business  greatly 
changed,  even  in  our  own  day,  excepting  that  the  slave- 
dealers  themselves  are  mostly  women  now. 

Having  selected  all  the  garments  necessary  for  Zoe's 
costume,  the  negress  bade  one  of  the  slave-girls  take  away 
the  remains  of  the  supper  and  bring  what  was  already 
prepared  for  the  morning.  The  maid  obeyed,  and  was 
not  gone  two  minutes.  She  brought  in  a  bowl  of 
cherries,  with  white  bread  and  butter  and  fresh  water, 
all  on  a  polished  tray  of  chiselled  brass. 

'Fruit  is  better  for  the  health  than  sweetmeats 
at  this  time  of  day,'  observed  the  mistress  of  the  house. 
'By  and  by,  at  dinner,  the  Kokona  shall  have  all  she 
wishes.' 

The  little  slaves  looked  at  Zoe  furtively  and  she 
smiled. 

'Yes/  she  said,  'fruit  is  much  better  in  the  morning.' 

Rustan's  wife  came  and  stood  beside  the  bed  and 
scrutinised  Zoe's  face. 

'I  think,'  she  said  critically,  'that  as  the  customer  is 
a  foreigner,  it  will  be  better  not  to  paint  your  eyes. 
The  natural  shadows  under  them  are  not  bad.' 

'  I  never  painted  my  face  in  my  life ! '  cried  the  girl, 
rather  indignantly. 

'  And  the  Kokona  is  quite  right ! '  answered  the  negress, 
anxious  to  keep  her  in  a  good  humour.  'Besides/  she 
continued,  fawning  again,  'I  am  here  only  to  do  your 
bidding  and  to  wait  on  you  to-day.  Will  it  please  you 
to  bathe  now?  I  shall  wait  on  you  myself.' 

'The  little  maids  are  very  quick  and  clever/  objected 


76  ARETHUSA 


CHAP. 


Zoe,  who  hardly  looked  upon  the  strapping  African  as  a 
woman. 

'No  doubt,  Kokona,  but  this  is  a  part  of  our  business, 
and  I  do  it  better  than  they/ 

'I  would  rather  let  them  help  me,  if  I  must  be  helped/ 
said  Zoe.  'But,  indeed,  I  am  quite  used  to  dressing 
myself.' 

'And  pray/  argued  the  negress,  grinning  and  growing 
familiar  again,  'how  could  Rustan  give  his  customers 
a  written  guarantee,  unless  I  assured  him,  that  there  is 
no  cause  for  complaint,  no  blemish,  no  scar,  no  hidden 
deformity,  no  ugly  birthmark?7 

Zoe  turned  her  face  away  on  the  pillow. 

'I  had  not  thought  of  that/  she  answered. 

'Heaven  forbid  that  I  should  myself/  returned  the 
woman,  relapsing  into  her  obsequious  manner  again, 
'  if  it  were  not  to  save  the  young  Kokona  from  any  trouble 
or  annoyance  with  our  customer !  If  it  will  but  please 
her  to  call  herself  my  mistress  and  me  her  slave,  she  shall 
not  be  disappointed.  If  I  am  rough  or  clumsy  she  shall 
box  my  ears  whenever  she  pleases,  and  I  shall  not  com 
plain  ! ' 

The  little  maids  devoutly  wished  that  Zoe  would  avail 
herself  of  their  tyrant's  extraordinary  offer,  but  they 
dared  not  smile.  She  still  turned  her  face  away  and 
was  silent. 

'See!'  coaxed  the  African.  'I  take  off  my  coat!' 
She  suited  the  action  to  the  word  and  divested  herself 
of  her  outer  garment,  which  was  the  long  coat  and  skirt 
in  one,  worn  only  by  free  women.  '  I  cover  my  head,  in 


iv  ARETHUSA  77 

the  Kokona's  presence!'  She  quickly  flattened  her 
wild  red  hair  under  a  kerchief  which  she  knotted  at  the 
back  of  her  neck.  '  I  roll  up  my  sleeves !  Am  I  anything 
but  a  slave,  a  bath-woman?  Why  will  the  beautiful 
Kokona  not  let  me  wait  on  her  ? ' 

Zoe  turned  her  eyes  and  saw  the  change,  and  suddenly 
her  objection  vanished;  for  Rustan's  wife  looked  pre 
cisely  like  the  black  slave-women  who  used  to  attend  the 
ladies  in  the  Roman  bath  in  Rhangabe's  palace.  The 
association  of  ideas  was  so  strong  that  the  young  girl 
could  not  help  smiling  faintly. 

'  As  you  please,'  she  said,  raising  herself  upon  one  hand 
and  preparing  to  get  up. 


CHAPTER  V 

CARLO  ZENO'S  interview  with  Rustan  had  been  short 
and  business-like,  as  has  been  said.  It  was  indeed  not 
at  all  likely  that  a  man  of  the  Venetian's  temper  and 
tastes  would  talk  with  a  Bokharian  slave-dealer  a  mo 
ment  longer  than  necessary. 

Rustan,  on  hearing  what  was  wanted,  declared  that 
he  had  the  very  thing;  in  fact,  by  a  wonderful  coinci 
dence,  it  was  the  very  thing  in  the  acme  of  perfection, 
a  dream,  a  vision,  fully  worth  four  hundred  ducats,  and 
certainly  not  to  be  sold  for  three  hundred;  it  had  fine 
natural  hair  that  had  never  been  dyed;  its  teeth  were 
twenty-eight  in  number,  the  wisdom  teeth  not  having 
yet  appeared,  and  Rustan  would  wager  that  Messer  Carlo 
could  not  find  a  single  pearl  in  all  Constantinople  to 
match  one  of  those  eight-and-twenty ;  its  ankles  were 
so  finely  turned  that  a  woman  could  span  them  with  her 
thumb  and  forefinger.  Rustan  felt  safe  in  saying  this, 
for  his  black  wife's  huge  hand  could  have  spanned  Zoe's 
throat;  also  it  had  a  most  beautiful  and  slender  waist, 
which,  as  Messer  Carlo  remarked,  was  certainly  a  point 
of  beauty.  Moreover,  Rustan  would  deliver  a  signed 
and  sealed  certificate  with  it. 

For  Zeno  was  conscientious,  and  held  Marco  Pesaro's 
letter  in  his  hand  while  he  questioned  the  Bokharian 

73 


CHAP,  v  ARETHUSA  79 

in  regard  to  the  various  points  in  succession,  lest  he 
should  forget  any  one  of  them.  He  did  not  in  the  least 
believe  a  word  that  Rustan  said,  of  course.  The  East 
was  never  the  land  of  simple,  trusting  faith  between  man 
and  man.  He  would  even  have  wagered  that  Rustan 
had  nothing  in  his  prison  of  the  sort  Pesaro  wanted,  and 
at  the  moment  of  the  interview  he  would  have  been  quite 
right.  But  he  was  tolerably  sure  that  if  he  insisted  on 
having  the  best,  the  best  to  be  had  would  be  forth 
coming  in  a  week  at  the  utmost.  Satisfied  with  this 
prospect,  he  dismissed  Rustan  and  thought  no  more 
about  the  matter,  except  to  wish  that  Marco  Pesaro 
had  not  troubled  him  with  such  an  absurd  commis 
sion. 

A  fine  young  gentleman  of  later  times  would  probably 
have  thought  few  quests  more  amusing  than  this,  and 
would  have  dreamt  that  night  of  the  beauties  he  intended 
to  see  before  at  last  deciding  upon  the  purchase.  Doubt 
less,  there  were  young  Venetians  even  then  in  Constan 
tinople  who  would  have  envied  Zeno  the  amusing  task 
of  criticising  pretty  faces,  hands,  and  ankles. 

But  he  was  not  of  the  same  temper  or  disposition  as 
those  gay  youths.  He  could  not  remember  that  any 
woman  had  ever  made  a  very  profound  impression  on  him, 
even  in  his  boyish  days.  When  he  was  in  Greece,  it  had 
been  suggested  to  him  that  he  might  as  well  marry,  like 
other  young  men,  and  he  had  allowed  himself  to  be 
betrothed  to  a  sleepy  Greek  heiress  who  had  conceived 
an  indolent  but  tenacious  admiration  for  his  fighting 
qualities;  but  it  had  pleased  the  fates  that  she  should 


80  ABETHUSA  CHAP. 

die  before  the  wedding-day  of  a  complication  of  the  spleen 
superinduced  by  a  surfeit  of  rose-leaf  jam  and  honey- 
cakes.  He  was  rather  ashamed  too  own  to  himself  that 
her  translation  to  a  better  world  had  been  a  distinct 
relief  to  his  feelings,  for  he  had  soon  discovered  that  he 
did  not  love  her,  though  he  had  been  too  kind  to  tell 
her  so,  and  too  honourable  to  think  of  breaking  his 
promise  of  marriage. 

He  did  not  despise  women  either;  indeed,  his  con 
duct  in  the  affair  of  his  betrothal  had  proved  that. 
Now  and  then  he  had  paused  in  his  restless  career  to 
think  of  a  more  peaceful  life,  and  in  the  pictures  that 
rose  before  his  imagination  there  was  generally  a  woman. 
Unhappily,  he  had  never  seen  any  one  like  her  in  real 
life,  and  when  he  was  tired  of  dreaming  he  shrugged  his 
shoulders  at  such  impossibilities  and  went  back  to  his 
adventurous  existence  without  a  sigh.  Yet  it  might 
be  thought  that  although  he  did  not  fall  in  love  he  might 
now  and  then  spend  careless  hours  with  the  free  and  frail, 
for  he  made  no  profession  or  show  of  austerity,  and 
whatever  he  really  might  be,  he  did  not  aspire  to  be 
called  a  saint.  He  had  been  a  wild  student  in  Padua 
once,  and  had  drunk  deep  and  played  high,  until  he 
had  suddenly  grown  tired  of  stupid  dissipation  and  had 
left  the  dice  to  play  the  more  exciting  game  of  life  and 
death  as  a  soldier  of  fortune  under  a  condottiere,  during 
five  long  wandering  years.  But  at  the  core  of  his  nature 
there  was  something  ascetic  which  his  comrades  could 
never  understand,  and  at  which  they  laughed  when  he 
was  not  within  hearing;  for  he  was  an  evil  man  to 


v  AKETHTJSA  81 

quarrel  with,  as  they  had  found  out.  He  never  killed 
his  man  in  a  duel  if  he  could  help  it,  but  he  had  a  way 
of  leaving  his  mark  for  life  on  his  adversary's  face 
which  few  cared  to  risk. 

And  now  it  was  long  indeed  since  his  lips  had  touched 
a  woman's,  for  his  character  had  taken  its  final  manly 
shape,  and  the  only  folly  to  which  he  still  yielded  now 
and  then  was  that  of  risking  his  life  recklessly  whenever 
he  fancied  that  a  cause  was  worth  it;  but  this  he  did 
not  look  upon  as  madness,  still  less  as  weakness,  and 
there  was  no  one  to  argue  the  question  with  him.  His 
honest  brown  eyes  softened  sometimes,  almost  like  a 
woman's,  but  only  for  pity  or  kindness,  never  for  word 
or  look  of  love. 

He  rose  in  the  bright  spring  morning  just  before  the 
sun  was  up,  and  went  down  the  steps  at  the  water's 
edge  below  his  house  and  swam  far  out  in  clear  water 
that  was  still  icy  cold.  Then  he  dressed  himself  com 
pletely  as  strong  and  healthy  men  do,  who  hate  to  feel 
that  they  are  not  ready  to  face  anything  from  the  be 
ginning  of  the  day.  But  while  he  was  dressing  he  was  not 
thinking  of  the  errand  that  was  to  take  him  to  Rustan's 
house  an  hour  before  noon.  Indeed,  he  had  quite  for 
gotten  it,  till  he  saw  Omobono  folding  Pesaro's  letter 
in  his  neat  way  in  order  to  file  it  for  reference.  As 
the  secretary  knew  what  it  contained,  and  had  been 
actively  employed  in  the  matter  to  which  it  referred, 
he  had  thought  there  could  be  no  great  sin  of  curiosity 
in  reading  it  carefully  while  his  master  was  at  his  toilet. 
It  would  have  been  wrong,  he  thought,  to  find  out  what 


82  ARETHUSA  CHAP. 

was  in  it  before  Zeno  himself  had  broken  the  seal,  but 
since  it  was  open,  it  was  evidently  better  that  the  secre 
tary  should  understand  precisely  what  was  wanted  of 
his  employer,  for  such  knowledge  could  only  increase 
his  own  usefulness.  For  the  rest,  he  vaguely  hoped  that 
Zeno  would  take  him  into  close  confidence  and  ask  his 
opinion  of  any  merchandise  he  thought  of  buying;  for 
Omobono  had  a  high  opinion  of  his  own  taste  in  beauty, 
and  had  wished  to  pass  for  a  lively  spark  in  his  young 
days. 

But  Zeno  evidently  considered  himself  qualified  to 
decide  the  matter  without  help,  for  when  it  lacked  an 
hour  of  noon  he  set  his  secretary  at  work  on  a  fair  copy 
of  a  letter  he  had  been  preparing,  ordered  his  horse  and 
running  footman,  and  went  upon  his  errand  without  any 
other  attendant  or  companion.  Omobono  looked  out 
of  the  window  and  watched  him  as  he  mounted,  inno 
cently  envying  him  his  youth  and  strength.  The  greatest 
fighting  man  of  his  century  moved  as  such  men  generally 
do,  without  haste  and  without  effort,  never  wasting  a 
movement  and  never  making  an  awkward  one,  never 
taking  a  fine  attitude  for  the  sake  of  effect,  as  the  young 
men  of  Raphael's  pictures  so  often  seem  to  be  doing, 
but  always  and  everywhere  unconsciously  graceful, 
self-possessed,  and  ready  for  anything. 

He  rode  a  half-bred  brown  Arab  mare,  for  he  was  not 
a  heavy  man,  and  he  preferred  a  serviceable  mount  at  all 
times  to  the  showy  and  ill-tempered  white  Barbary, 
or  the  rather  delicate  thoroughbred  of  the  desert,  which 
were  favourites  with  the  rich  Greeks  of  Constantinople. 


v  ARETHUSA  83 

He  was  quietly  dressed,  too ;  and  his  bare-legged  runner, 
who  cleared  the  way  for  him  when  the  streets  were 
crowded,  wore  a  plain  brown  tunic  and  cap,  and  did  not 
yell  at  the  poorer  people  and  slaves  or  strike  them  in 
passing  as  the  footmen  of  great  personages  always  did. 
Zeno  had  picked  him  out  of  at  least  a  hundred  for  his 
endurance  and  his  long  wind. 

So  they  went  quietly  and  quickly  along,  the  man  and 
his  master,  following  very  nearly  the  way  which  Omo- 
bono  had  taken  on  the  previous  afternoon,  till  they  came 
to  the  long  wall  crested  with  sharp  bits  of  rusty  iron  and 
broken  crockery,  and  stopped  before  the  only  door  that 
broke  its  blank  length.  Zeno  looked  at  the  defence 
critically,  and  wondered  just  how  great  an  inducement 
would  make  him  take  the  trouble  of  getting  over  it,  at 
the  risk  of  cutting  his  hands  and  tearing  his  clothes. 
Before  any  one  answered  his  footman's  knock,  he  had 
decided  that  it  would  be  an  easy  matter  to  bring  his 
well-broken  horse  close  to  the  wall,  to  stand  on  the  saddle, 
draw  himself  up  and  throw  a  heavy  cloak  over  the  spiky 
iron  and  the  sharp-edged  shards  with  one  hand  while 
hanging  by  the  other.  The  rest  would  be  easy  enough. 
It  was  always  his  instinct  to  make  such  calculations 
when  he  entered  or  passed  by  any  place  that  was  meant 
to  be  defended. 

This  time  the  door  was  opened  by  Rustan  Karaboghazji 
in  person,  and  he  bowed  to  the  ground  as  Zeno  got  off 
his  horse  and  stood  beside  him.  Still  bending  low  he 
made  way  and  with  a  wide  gesture  invited  his  visitor 
to  enter.  But  Zeno  had  no  intention  of  wasting  time 


84  ABETHUSA  CHAP. 

by  going  in  till  he  was  assured  that  there  was  some 
thing  ready  for  his  inspection  in  the  way  of  merchan 
dise. 

In  answer  to  his  question  Rustan  turned  up  his  face 
sideways  and  smiled  cunningly  as  he  gradually  straight 
ened  himself. 

'Your  Magnificence  shall  see !'  he  answered.  ' Where 
is  the  letter?  Every  point  is  perfect,  as  I  promised.' 

'Were  you  really  speaking  the  truth?'  laughed  Zeno. 
'I  expected  to  come  at  least  three  times  before  seeing 
any  thing !' 

Rustan  assumed  an  expression  of  gentle  reproach. 

'If  your  Splendour  had  dealt  with  Barlaam,  the  Syrian 
merchant,  or  with  Abraham  of  Smyrna,  the  Jewish  cara 
van-broker/  he  said, '  it  would  have  been  as  your  Greatness 
deigns  to  suggest.  Moreover,  your  Highness  would  not 
have  been  satisfied  after  all,  and  would  have  come  at  last 
to  the  house  of  your  servant  Rustan  Karaboghazji,  sur- 
named  the  Truth-speaker  and  the  Just,  and  also  the 
Keeper  of  Promises,  by  those  who  know  him.  It  must 
have  been  so,  since  there  is  but  one  treasure  in  all  the 
Empire  such  as  your  Mightiness  asks  for,  and  it  is  in 
this  house.' 

Zeno  laughed  carelessly,  and  entered. 

'Your  Unspeakableness  is  amused,'  said  Rustan, 
fastening  the  outer  door  carefully  with  both  keys.  'But 
if  it  is  not  as  I  say,  I  entreat  your  High  Mightiness  to 
kick  his  humble  servant  from  this  door  to  the  Seven 
Towers  and  back  again,  passing  by  the  Chora,  Blachernae, 
and  the  Church  of  the  Blessed  Pantokrator  on  the  way/ 


v  ABETHUSA  85 

'That  would  take  a  long  time/  observed  Zeno.  ' Open 
the  door  and  let  me  see  the  girl.' 

'Your  Grandeur  shall  see,  indeed!'  answered  Rustan, 
smiling  confidently  as  he  led  the  way.  'Rustan  the 
Truth-speaker/  he  continued,  as  if  to  himself  while  walk 
ing,  'Karaboghazji  the  faithful  Keeper  of  Promises!' 

He  gently  caressed  his  beautiful  black  beard  as  he 
went  on.  He  took  Zeno  through  the  small  part  of  the 
house  which  he  reserved  for  his  own  use,  far  from  the 
larger  rooms  where  he  kept  his  stock  of  slaves.  In  an 
inner  apartment  they  met  the  negress,  resplendent  in 
scarlet  velvet  and  a  heavy  gold  chain,  her  red  hair 
combed  straight  out  from  her  head.  When  Zeno  ap 
peared,  she  at  once  assumed  what  she  considered  a  modest 
but  engaging  attitude,  crossing  her  great  hands  upon 
her  splendid  coat,  and  looking  down  with  a  marvellous 
attempt  at  a  simper. 

Rustan  stood  still  and  for  a  moment  Zeno  thought 
that  the  dealer  had  ventured  to  jest  with  him,  by  showing 
him  the  terrific  negress  in  her  finery  as  the  incomparable 
treasure  of  which  he  had  spoken.  But  Rustan's  words 
explained  everything. 

'My  Life,'  he  said,  speaking  to  his  wife  in  a  caressing 
tone,  'is  the  girl  ready  to  be  seen?' 

'As  my  lord  commanded  me,'  replied  the  negress, 
keeping  her  hands  folded  and  bending  a  little. 

'This  lady,'  said  Rustan  to  Zeno,  'is  my  wife,  and 
my  right  hand.'  He  turned  to  her.  'Sweet  Dove/ 
he  said,  '  pray  lead  his  Magnificence  to  the  slave's  room. 
I  will  wait  here.' 


86  AKETHUSA  CHAP. 

Zeno  seemed  surprised  at  this  arrangement. 

'My  wife/  explained  Rustan,  ' understands  the  crea 
tures  better  than  I.  My  business  is  buying  and  selling; 
it  is  her  part  to  keep  the  merchandise  in  good  condition, 
and  to  show  it  to  the  customers  who  honour  us/ 

He  smiled  pleasantly  as  he  said  this,  and  remained 
standing  while  Zeno  followed  the  negress  out  of  the  room. 
As  he  walked  behind  her  he  could  not  help  noting  her 
strong  square  shoulders,  and  the  swing  of  her  powerful 
hips,  and  her  firm  tread,  and  he  conceived  the  idea  that 
she  would  be  a  match  for  any  ordinary  man  in  a  tussle. 
He  was  certainly  not  thinking  of  the  slave-girl  he  was 
about  to  inspect. 

Another  door  opened,  and  he  was  in  a  room  flooded 
with  sunshine  and  sweet  with  spring  flowers ;  he  stopped, 
and  unconsciously  drew  one  sharp  breath  of  surprise. 
Zoe  had  been  sitting  in  a  big  chair  in  the  sun,  and  had 
half  risen  as  the  door  opened,  her  hand  resting  on  one 
of  the  arms  of  the  seat.  Her  eyes  met  Zeno's,  and  for 
a  moment  no  one  moved.  If  Rustan  had  been  present 
he  would  have  raised  the  price  of  the  merchandise  to 
five  hundred  ducats  at  least;  the  black  woman  only 
grinned,  well  pleased  with  the  appearance  of  the  girl 
whom  she  had  herself  dressed  to  receive  the  customer's 
visit  of  inspection. 

Zoe'shand  tightened  a  little  on  the  arm  of  the  chair  and 
she  sank  quietly  into  her  seat  again  as  she  turned  her 
eyes  from  Zeno's  face,  forgetting  that  she  had  promised 
herself  to  stand  erect  and  cold  as  a  slave  should  when  she 
is  being  exhibited. 


v  ARETHUSA  87 

If  the  Venetian  still  doubted  that  by  some  mysterious 
chance  of  fate  the  girl  he  had  come  to  buy  at  the  slave- 
dealer's  was  as  well  born  as  himself,  her  movement  as 
she  sat  down  dispelled  his  lingering  uncertainty.  He  had 
entered  the  room  carelessly,  still  wearing  his  cap.  As 
Zoe  resumed  her  seat,  he  took  it  from  his  head,  bowing 
instinctively,  as  he  would  have  done  on  meeting  a  woman 
of  his  own  class.  A  faint  colour  rose  in  the  girl's  cheeks, 
as  she  looked  at  him  again. 

Rustan's  wife  laughed  silently,  standing  a  little  behind 
him.  Zoe  spoke  first. 

'Pray,  sir/  she  said,  'be  covered/ 

'His  High  Mightiness  uncovers  his  head  for  coolness,' 
said  the  negress. 

Zeno  gave  her  a  sharp  glance  and  then  turned  to  Zoe. 

'It  is  not  possible  that  you  are  a  slave/  he  said,  coming 
a  little  nearer  and  looking  down  into  her  face. 

But  she  would  not  meet  his  eyes. 

'It  is  the  truth,  sir/  she  said.  'I  am  a  slave  and  any 
one  may  buy  me  and  take  me  away/ 

'Then  you  have  been  carried  off  by  force/  Zeno  an 
swered  with  conviction,  '  in  war,  perhaps,  or  in  some  raid 
of  enemies  on  enemies.  Tell  me  who  you  are  and  how 
it  happened,  and  by  the  body  of  blessed  Saint  Mark, 
I  will  give  you  back  free  to  your  own  people ! ' 

Zoe  looked  at  him  in  silent  surprise.  The  negress 
answered  him  at  once,  for  she  did  not  like  the  turn  affairs 
were  taking,  and  though  she  had  never  heard  of  Carlo 
Zeno,  she  judged  from  his  looks  that  he  was  able  to  make 
good  his  promise. 


88  AKETHUSA  CHAP. 

1  Your  Splendour  does  not  really  believe  that  my  hus 
band  would  risk  the  punishment  of  a  robber  for  carrying 
off  a  free  woman ! '  she  cried. 

'I  am  a  slave/  Zoe  said  quietly.  'Only  a  slave  and 
nothing  else.  There  is  no  more  than  that  to  tell.7 

She  drew  one  hand  across  her  brow  and  eyes  as  if  to 
shut  out  something  or  to  drive  it  away.  Zeno  came 
nearer  and  stood  alone  beside  her. 

'  Tell  me  your  story/  he  said  in  a  lower  tone.  '  Do  not 
be  afraid !  no  one  shall  hurt  you.' 

'  There  is  no  more  to  tell/  she  repeated,  shaking  her 
head.  '  But  you  are  kind,  and  I  thank  you  very  much/ 

She  raised  her  clear  brown  eyes  gratefully  to  his  for  a 
moment.  There  was  sadness  in  them,  but  he  saw  that 
she  had  not  been  weeping;  and  like  a  man,  he  argued 
that  if  she  were  very  unhappy  she  would,  of  course,  shed 
copious  tears  the  live-long  day,  like  the  captive  maidens 
in  the  tales  of  chivalry.  He  looked  at  the  beautiful 
young  hand,  now  lying  on  the  arm  of  the  chair,  and  for 
the  first  time  in  his  life  he  felt  embarrassed. 

The  negress,  who  was  not  at  all  used  to  such  methods 
in  the  buying  and  selling  of  humanity,  now  came  forward 
and  began  to  call  attention  to  the  fine  quality  of  her  goods. 

'Very  fine  natural  hair/  she  observed.  'Your  Gor- 
geousness  will  see  at  once  that  it  has  never  been  dyed/ 

She  took  one  of  Zoe's  plaits  in  her  hand,  and  the  girl 
shrank  a  little  at  the  touch. 

'Let  her  alone !'  Zeno  said  sharply.     'I  am  not  blind/ 

'It  is  her  business  to  show  me/  Zoe  answered  for  her, 
in  a  tone  of  submission. 


'  Tell  me  your  story,'  he  said  in  a  lower  tone. 

hurt  you.' 


Do  not  be  afraid !   no  one  shall 


v  ARETHTJSA  89 

'It  shall  not  be  her  business  much  longer/  replied 
Zeno,  almost  to  himself. 

He  suddenly  turned  away  from  her,  went  to  the  open 
window,  and  looked  out,  laying  one  hand  on  the  iron 
bars.  It  was  not  often  that  he  hesitated,  but  he  found 
himself  faced  by  a  very  unexpected  difficulty.  He  was 
executing  a  commission  for  a  friend,  and  if  he  bought 
a  slave  with  his  friend's  money,  he  should  feel  bound  in 
honour  to  send  her  to  her  new  master  at  the  first  op 
portunity.  On  the  other  hand,  though  it  was  perfectly 
clear  from  the  girl's  behaviour  that  she  expected  no  better 
fate,  he  was  intimately  convinced  that  in  some  way  a 
great  wrong  was  being  done,  and  he  had  never  yet  passed 
a  wrong  by  without  trying  to  right  it  with  his  purse  or 
his  sword.  Clearly,  he  was  still  at  liberty  to  buy  Zoe 
for  himself,  and  take  her  to  his  home;  yet  he  shrank 
from  such  a  solution  of  the  problem,  as  if  it  were  the 
hardest  of  all.  What  should  he  do  with  a  young  and 
lovely  girl  in  his  house,  where  there  were  no  women,  where 
no  woman  ever  set  foot?  She  would  need  female  at 
tendants,  and  of  course  he  could  buy  them  for  her,  or 
hire  them;  but  he  thought  with  strong  distaste  of  such 
an  establishment  as  all  this  would  force  upon  him.  Be 
sides,  he  could  not  keep  the  girl  for  ever,  merely  because 
he  suspected  that  she  was  born  a  lady  and  was  the  victim 
of  some  great  injustice.  She  denied  that  she  was. 
What  if  she  should  persist  in  her  denial  after  he  had 
bought  her  to  set  her  free?  What  if  she  really  had  no 
family,  no  home,  no  one  to  whom  she  could  go,  or  wished 
to  go?  He  would  not  turn  her  out,  then;  he  would  not 


90  AKETHUSA  CHAP. 

sell  her  again,  and  he  should  not  want  her.  Moreover, 
he  knew  well  enough  that  it  was  not  his  nature  to  go  on 
leading  the  peaceful  life  of  a  merchant  much  longer, 
even  if  the  threatening  times  would  permit  it.  He  had 
always  been  as  free  as  air.  As  he  was  now  living,  if  it 
should  please  him  to  leave  Constantinople,  he  could  do 
so  in  twenty-four  hours,  leaving  his  business,  though 
at  a  loss,  to  another  merchant  —  for  he  had  prospered. 
But  it  would  be  otherwise  if  this  girl  were  in  the  house, 
under  his  protection,  and  it  never  occurred  to  him,  after 
he  had  looked  into  her  eyes,  that  she  could  live  under  his 
roof  except  in  order  that  he  might  protect  her  —  protect 
her  from  imaginary  enemies,  right  imaginary  wrongs 
she  had  never  suffered,  and  altogether  make  of  her  what 
she  protested  that  she  was  not. 

It  was  absurd  to  think  of  such  a  thing,  and  having 
come  to  this  conclusion  in  a  shorter  time  than  it  has 
taken  me  to  describe  his  thoughts,  he  turned  abruptly 
with  the  intention  of  buying  her  for  Marco  Pesaro's 
account. 

Unfortunately,  when  he  saw  her  face  he  could  not 
do  it. 

'I  will  send  a  palanquin  for  you  in  an  hour/  he  said 
hurriedly,  and  he  made  for  the  door  in  evident  anxiety 
to  get  away  without  exchanging  another  word  with  Zoe. 

The  negress  followed  him  quickly  into  the  next  room, 
very  much  surprised  at  his  way  of  doing  business. 

'If  it  please  your  Glory,'  she  began,  overtaking  him 
with  difficulty,  but  he  would  not  listen,  and  hurried  on. 

'I  will  settle  with  Rustan/  he  said. 


v  ARETHUSA  91 

But  in  the  room  where  he  had  left  her,  Zoe  was  leaning 
back  in  her  chair  alone,  gazing  at  the  sunlit  window.  At 
that  very  moment,  so  far  as  she  knew,  the  gold  was  being 
counted  out  that  was  the  price  of  her  young  life.  In  an 
hour  she  would  be  taken  away  in  a  closed  litter,  as  she 
had  been  brought  last  night,  she  would  be  carried  into 
another  house,  the  slide  would  slip  back,  and  she  would 
be  told  to  get  down. 

The  voice  would  be  a  man's.  Who  was  he?  What 
was  his  name?  What  was  she  to  be  to  him?  He  was 
a  Venetian,  she  guessed  by  his  dress,  and  she  felt  that  his 
blood  was  gentle,  like  her  own.  But  that  was  all, 
though  she  was  already  his  property.  It  was  dreadful; 
or,  at  least,  it  should  be  dreadful  to  think  of !  She  felt 
that  she  ought  to  long  for  death  now,  a  thousand  times 
more  earnestly  than  last  night. 

But  she  did  not.  For  she  was  a  most  womanly  woman 
already,  though  not  nineteen,  and  there  are  few  women 
of  that  intensely  feminine  temper  who  cannot  judge  at  a 
first  meeting  with  a  man  whether  they  can  gain  power 
over  him  or  not.  Moreover,  this  strength  is  greatest 
with  men  who  are  most  profoundly  masculine,  because 
it  is  not  the  influence  of  one  character  over  another,  but 
the  deeper,  stronger,  more  mysterious  power  of  sex 
over  sex. 


CHAPTER  VI 

LITTLE  Omobono's  thin  legs  carried  him  up  and  down 
the  stairs  of  Zeno's  house  at  an  astonishing  pace  during 
the  next  hour;  for  Carlo  gave  fifty  orders,  every  one 
of  which  he  insisted  should  be  executed  at  once.  It  was 
not  a  small  thing  to  instal  a  woman  luxuriously  in  a 
house  in  which  no  woman  had  set  foot  since  Carlo  had 
lived  there,  and  to  do  this  within  sixty  minutes.  It  is 
true  that  the  rich  young  merchant  had  great  store  of 
thick  carpets  and  fine  stuffs,  and  all  sorts  of  silver  vessels, 
and  weapons  from  Damascus,  and  carved  ivory  chessmen 
from  India;  but  though  some  of  these  things  quickly 
furnished  the  upper  rooms  which  Zeno  set  apart  for  the 
valuable  slave's  use  while  she  remained  under  his  roof, 
yet  scimitars,  chessmen,  and  heathen  idols  of  jade  were 
poor  substitutes  for  all  the  things  a  woman  might  be 
expected  to  need  at  a  moment's  notice,  from  hairpins  and 
hand-mirrors  to  fine  linen  pillow-cases,  sweetmeats,  and  a 
lap-dog.  Zeno's  ideas  of  a  woman's  requirements  were  a 
little  vague,  but  he  determined  that  Zoe  should  want 
nothing,  and  he  charged  Omobono  with  the  minute 
execution  of  his  smallest  commands. 

He   himself   lived   simply   and   almost   rudely.    He 
slept  on  a  small  hard  divan  with  a  little  hard  cushion 

92 


CHAP.  VI 


ARETHUSA  93 


under  his  head,  and  a  cloak  to  cover  him  in  cold  weather. 
He  hated  hot  water,  scented  soap,  and  all  the  soft  lux 
uries  of  the  Roman  bath.  There  was  no  mirror  in  his 
room,  no  elaborate  toilet  service  of  gold  and  silver,  such 
as  fine  young  gentlemen  used  even  then.  He  liked  a  good 
dinner  when  he  was  hungry,  good  wine  when  he  was 
thirsty,  and  a  wide  easy-chair  when  he  had  worked 
all  day;  but  it  never  had  cost  him  a  moment's  discom 
fort  to  exchange  such  a  home  as  he  now  lived  in  for  the 
camp  or  the  sea. 

Women  were  different  beings,  however,  so  he  made  all 
allowances  for  them,  and  went  to  extreme  lengths  in 
estimating  their  necessities,  as  Omobono  found  to  his 
cost.  Yet  with  all  Lis  preoccupation  for  details,  Zeno 
forgot  that  Zoe  must  have  a  woman  to  wait  on  her  at 
once,  and  when  he  realised  the  omission,  almost  at  the 
last  minute,  the  future  conqueror  of  the  Genoese,  the 
terror  of  the  Mediterranean,  the  victorious  general  of 
the  Paduan  campaign,  the  hero  of  thirty  pitched  battles 
and  a  score  of  sea-fights,  felt  his  heart  sink  with  some 
thing  like  fear.  What  would  have  happened  if  he  had 
not  remembered  just  in  time  that  Marco  Pesaro's  slave 
must  have  a  maid?  She  should  have  two,  or  three,  or 
as  many  as  she  needed. 

1  Omobono/  he  said,  as  the  little  secretary  came  up 
the  stairs  for  the  twentieth  time, '  go  out  quickly  and  buy 
two  maids.  They  must  be  young,  healthy,  clean,  clever, 
and  silent.  Lose  no  time ! 7 

'Two  maids?'  The  secretary's  jaw  dropped.  'Two 
maids?'  he  repeated  almost  stupidly. 


94  ABETHTJSA  CHAP. 

'Yes.  Is  there  anything  wonderful  in  that?  Did 
you  expect  to  wait  on  the  lady  yourself?' 

'The  lady  ?'  Omobono  opened  his  little  eyes  very  wide. 

'I  mean,'  answered  Zeno,  correcting  himself,  'the  — 
the  young  person  who  is  going  to  be  lodged  here.  Lose 
no  time,  I  say!  Go  as  fast  as  you  can!' 

Omobono  turned  and  went,  not  having  the  least  idea 
where  to  go.  Before  he  had  reached  the  outer  door, 
Zeno  called  after  him  down  the  stairs. 

'Stop!'  cried  the  merchant.  'It  is  too  late.  You 
must  go  and  get  the  lady  —  the  young  person.  Take 
two  palanquins  instead  of  one,  and  tell  Rustan  to  let 
her  choose  her  own  slaves.  You  can  put  the  two  into 
one  litter  and  bring  them  all  together.' 

'But  the  price,  sir?'  enquired  Omobono,  who  was  a 
man  of  business.  'Rustan  will  ask  what  he  pleases  if  I 
take  him  such  a  message!' 

'Tell  him  that  if  he  is  not  reasonable  he  shall  do  no 
more  business  with  Venetians,'  answered  Zeno,  from 
the  head  of  the  marble  stairs. 

Omobono  nodded  obediently  and  followed  his  in 
structions.  So  it  came  to  pass  that  before  long  he  found 
himself  within  Rustan's  outer  wall  with  two  palanquins 
and  eight  bearers,  besides  a  couple  of  Zeno's  trusty 
men-servants,  well  armed,  for  he  carried  a  large  sum  of 
money  in  gold.  The  Bokharian  and  the  secretary  went 
into  an  inner  room  to  count  and  weigh  the  ducats,  but 
before  this  began  Omobono  delivered  his  message  in  full. 

' I  have  the  very  thing,'  said  Karaboghazji.  '  There  are 
two  girls  who  have  waited  on  her  and  with  whom  she  is 


vi  ARETHUSA  95 

much  pleased.  As  for  asking  too  high  a  price,  forty 
ducats  for  the  two  is  nothing.  They  are  a  gift,  at  that.' 

'Forty  ducats!'  cried  Omobono,  casting  up  his  eyes, 
and  preparing  to  bargain  for  at  least  half  an  hour. 

'If  it  is  dear,'  said  Rustan,  his  face  becoming  like  stone, 
'  may  my  tongue  never  speak  the  truth  again ! ' 

Considering  attentively  the  consequences  of  such  an 
awful  fate  Omobono  did  not  think  that  the  Bokharian 
risked  any  great  inconvenience  if  the  imprecation  should 
take  effect. 

'It  is  far  from  me,'  said  the  secretary,  'to  suggest 
that  your  words  are  not  literally  true,  according  to  your 
own  light.  But  you  must  be  aware  that  the  price  of 
maid-servants  has  fallen  much  since  yesterday,  owing 
to  the  arrival  of  a  shipload  of  them  from  Tanais.' 

Rustan  shook  his  head  and  maintained  his  stony 
expression. 

'They  are  worthless,'  he  said.  'Do  you  suppose  I 
should  not  have  bought  the  best  of  them?  There  has 
been  a  plague  of  smallpox  in  their  country,  and  they  are 
all  pitted.  They  are  as  oranges,  blighted  by  hail.' 

As  Omobono  had  invented  the  ship  and  its  cargo, 
he  found  it  hard  to  refute  Rustan's  argument,  which 
was  quite  as  good  as  his  own. 

'May  my  fingers  be  turned  round  in  their  sockets  and 
close  on  the  back  of  my  hand,  if  I  have  asked  one  ducat 
too  much,'  said  the  Bokharian  with  stolid  calm. 

Omobono  hesitated,  for  a  new  idea  had  struck  him. 
Before  he  could  answer,  a  door  opened  and  Rustan's 
wife,  who  had  put  off  her  finery,  ushered  in  Zoe,  closely 


96  ARETHUSA  CHAP. 

veiled  and  wrapped  in  the  cloak  she  had  worn  on  the 
previous  night.  It  was,  in  fact,  necessary  that  she 
should  be  delivered  up  in  return  for  the  gold,  and  the 
negress  had  supposed  that  the  counting  was  almost  over. 

'My  turtle  dove/  said  Rustan  in  dulcet  tones,  'fetch 
those  two  girls  who  have  waited  on  Kok6na  Arethusa. 
The  Venetian  merchant  will  buy  them  for  her.3 

The  negress  grinned  and  went  out.  By  this  time 
Omobono  had  made  up  his  mind  what  to  say. 

'My  dear  sir,'  he  began,  in  a  conciliatory  tone,  'con 
sider  that  we  are  friends,  and  do  not  ask  an  exorbitant 
price.  I  beseech  you  to  be  obliging,  by  four  toes  and 
five  toes.' 

Omobono  wondered  what  would  happen  after  he  had 
pronounced  the  mysterious  words.  Rustan  looked 
keenly  at  him  and  was  silent  for  a  moment.  Neither 
of  them  noticed  that  Zoe  made  a  quick  movement  as  she 
stood  by  the  table  between  them.  The  Bokharian  rose 
suddenly  and  went  to  shut  the  door. 

' Where?'  he  asked  as  he  crossed  the  small  room. 

Omobono's  face  fell  at  the  unexpected  and  apparently 
irrelevant  question.  Instantly  Zoe  bent  down  and 
whispered  three  words  in  his  ear.  Before  Rustan  turned 
back  to  hear  the  clerk's  answer,  she  was  standing 
erect  and  motionless  again,  and  he  did  not  suspect  that 
she  had  moved. 

'Over  the  water/  answered  Omobono,  with  perfect 
confidence. 

'You  may  have  the  two  for  four-and-twenty  ducats/ 
said  Rustan.  'But  you  cannot  expect  me  to  take  any- 


VI 


AKETHUSA  97 


thing  off  the  price  of  the  Kokona/  he  added.  'I  bar 
gained  with  your  master,  and  he  agreed.' 

'No,  no!    Certainly!    And  I  thank  you,  sir.' 

'I  suppose/  said  Rustan,  'that  you  would  do  as  much 
for  me.' 

'Of  course,  of  course/  answered  Omobono.  'Shall 
we  count  the  ducats?' 

When  the  operation  was  almost  finished,  the  negress  re 
turned  with  the  two  slave-girls,  whose  commonplace  fea 
tures  were  wreathed  in  smiles,  and  they  began  to  kiss  the 
hem  of  Zoe's  cloak.  Omobono  inspected  them  critically. 

'Are  you  pleased  with  them,  Kok6na?'  he  enquired 
of  Zoe.  'My  master  is  very  anxious  that  you  should 
be  satisfied.' 

'Indeed  I  am/  Zoe  answered  readily.  'They  are  very 
clever  little  maids.' 

The  two  were  almost  crying  with  delight,  and  only 
a  meaning  movement  of  the  negress's  hand  to  her  girdle 
checked  them.  They  were  not  out  of  her  power  yet. 
Omobono  eyed  them,  and  really  thought  them  cheap  at 
twelve  ducats  each,  as  indeed  they  were.  He  was  paying 
four  hundred  for  Zoe,  but  Rustan  did  not  mean  her  to  see 
the  gold,  and  had  covered  it  with  one  of  his  loose  sleeves 
as  she  entered.  He  now  begged  his  wife  take  the  three 
slaves  to  the  palanquins  while  he  finished  counting  and 
weighing,  and  wrote  out  his  receipt  for  the  money. 
He  called  the  negress  his  pet  mouse,  his  little  bird,  and 
the  down-quilted  waistcoat  of  his  heart,  and  but  for  her 
terrific  appearance,  and  the  weapon  she  carried  in  her 
girdle,  Omobono  would  have  laughed  outright. 


98  ARETHUSA 


CHAP. 


Rustan  wrote  on  a  strip  of  parchment,  in  bad 
Greek :  — 

In  the  name  of  the  Holy  Trinity,  Constantinople,  the 
Saturday  before  Passion  Sunday,  the  second  year  of 
Andronicus  Augustus  Caesar,  and  the  fourteenth  of  the 
Indiction,  I  have  received  from  the  Most  Magnificent 
Carlo  Zeno,  a  Venetian,  the  sum  of  four  hundred  and 
forty  gold  ducats  of  Venice,  for  the  following  merchan 
dise  :  — 

For  one  Greek  maid  slave,  slave-born, 
between  seventeen  and  eighteen  years 
old,  answering  to  the  name  of  Are- 
thusa,  without  blemish,  scar,  or  birth 
mark,  having  natural  brown  hair, 
brown  eyes,  twenty-eight  teeth  all 
sound,  weighing  two  Attic  talents  and 
five  minse  more  or  less,  and  speaking 
Greek,  Latin,  and  Italian Ducats  400 

For  two  maid  slaves,  from  Tanais,  slave- 
born,  of  fourteen  and  fifteen,  answer 
ing  to  the  names  of  Lucilla  and  Yulia, 
sound,  healthy,  never  having  been 
tortured  or  branded,  each  having  black 
hair,  black  eyes,  and  twenty-eight 
teeth,  trained  to  wait  on  a  lady,  and 
speaking  intelligible  Greek,  besides  a 
barbarous  dialect  of  their  own,  war 
ranted  docile,  and  not  given  to  stealing ; 

at  20  ducats  each Ducats    40 

In  all  Ducats  440 


RUSTAN  KARABOGHAZJI,  the  son  of  Daddirjdn,  Merchant. 
(Witness)  —  SEBASTIAN  OMOBONO,  of  Venice,  Clerk. 


vi  ARETHUSA  99 

Omobono  observed  that  the  receipt  acknowledged 
forty  ducats  as  the  price  of  the  two  girls,  instead  of 
twenty-four. 

'Rustan  Karaboghazji,  surnamed  the  Truth-speaker, 
does  not  sell  slaves  at  twelve  ducats,'  answered  the  Bo- 
kharian  with  dignity.  '  Moreover,  your  employer  will 
see  that  he  has  paid  forty,  and  you  can  justly  keep  the 
sixteen  ducats  for  yourself.' 

'That  would  not  be  honest,'  protested  Omobono, 
shaking  his  neat  grey  beard. 

Rustan  smiled,  in  a  pitying  way. 

'You  Venetians  do  not  really  understand  business,' 
he  said,  tightening  the  strings  of  the  canvas  bag  into 
which  he  had  swept  the  gold,  and  knotting  them  as  he 
rose. 

A  few  minutes  later  Omobono  was  trudging  along  after 
the  two  palanquins,  wondering  much  at  certain  things 
that  had  happened  to  him  during  the  last  twenty-four 
hours  and  less.  For  he  was  curious,  as  you  know,  and 
it  irritated  him  to  feel  that  something  was  going  on 
in  the  world,  all  about  him  and  near  him,  of  which 
he  could  not  even  guess  the  nature,  manifesting  itself 
in  such  nonsensical  phrases  as  'four  toes  and  five  toes,' 
and  'over  the  water,'  which  nevertheless  produced 
such  truly  astonishing  results.  Since  the  previous 
afternoon  he  had  met  four  persons  who  knew  those 
absurd  words,  —  the  negress,  her  Bokharian  husband,  the 
sacristan  to  Saints  Sergius  and  Bacchus,  and  a  Greek 
slave-girl,  whom  he  was  far  from  recognising  as  the 
beautiful  creature  he  had  seen  yesterday  in  the  ruined 


100  ABETHTJSA 


CHAP. 


house  in  the  beggars'  quarter.  She  was  so  closely  veiled 
to-day  that  he  could  not  in  the  least  guess  what  her  face 
was  like. 

Since  she  not  only  knew  the  first  password,  but  had 
whispered  the  second  to  him,  he  wondered  why  she  had 
not  used  her  knowledge  to  get  her  freedom.  It  was 
incredible  that  the  people  who  knew  the  words  should 
not  be  banded  together  in  some  secret  brotherhood ;  but 
if  they  were  brethren,  how  could  they  sell  one  another 
into  slavery?  Omobono  was  so  much  interested  in 
these  problems  that  he  did  not  see  where  he  was  till 
the  leading  palanquin  entered  Zeno's  gate. 

Zeno  himself  was  not  to  be  seen.  The  servant  at 
the  door  gave  Omobono  a  slip  of  cotton  paper  on  which 
the  merchant  had  written  an  order.  The  secretary  was 
to  take  his  charges  to  what  was  now  the  women's  apart 
ment  and  leave  them  there.  Zoe  obeyed  Omobono's 
directions  in  silence,  still  veiled,  and  the  two  maids 
tripped  up  the  marble  stairs  after  her,  as  happy  as  birds 
on  a  May  morning,  and  taking  in  all  they  saw  with 
wondering  eyes ;  for  they  had  never  been  in  a  fine  house 
before. 

'This  is  the  Kokona's  apartment/  Omobono  said, 
standing  aside  to  let  Zoe  pass.  'If  the  Kokona  desires 
anything,  she  will  please  to  send  one  of  her  maids  to 
me.  I  am  the  master's  secretary.' 

He  had  been  surprised  when  Zeno  spoke  of  her  as 
a  'lady,'  but  somehow,  since  she  had  whispered  in  his 
ear  at  the  slave-dealer's  house,  and  since  he  had  seen 
her  movement  and  carriage  when  she  walked  upstairs, 


VI 


ARETHUSA  101 


he  instinctively  treated  her  and  spoke  to  her  as  if  she  were 
his  superior.  She  nodded  her  thanks  now,  but  said 
nothing,  and  he  went  away.  She  looked  after  him  and 
listened,  but  no  key  was  turned  after  the  door  was  closed, 
and  she  heard  only  his  retreating  steps  on  the  marble 
stairs.  Then  she  turned  to  the  window,  which  was  open, 
and  she  threw  aside  her  veil  and  looked  out  upon  the 
Golden  Horn. 

The  two  little  maids  at  once  began  a  minute  exami 
nation  of  the  rooms,  which  occupied  more  than  half 
the  upper  story  of  the  house,  and  were,  if  anything,  too 
crowded  with  rich  furniture,  with  divans,  carved  tables, 
hanging  lamps,  cushioned  seats,  and  pillows  of  every 
size,  shape,  and  colour.  There  were  handsome  ward 
robes,  too,  full  of  the  fine  clothes  Zoe  was  to  wear. 
The  girls  touched  everything  and  talked  by  signs,  lest 
they  should  disturb  Zoe's  meditations.  They  told  each 
other  that  the  master  of  the  house  must  be  highly  pleased 
with  his  slave,  since  he  surrounded  her  with  beautiful 
things ;  that  these  things  were  all  new,  which  was  a  sign 
that  there  was  no  other  woman  in  the  house;  and  that 
they  were  very  fortunate  and  happy  to  have  been  sold, 
after  only  a  month  of  apprenticeship  under  the  negress's 
merciless  training.  They  also  explained  to  each  other 
that  they  were  hungry,  for  it  was  past  noon.  The  idea 
of  running  away  had  probably  never  occurred  to  either 
of  them,  even  in  Rustan's  house.  Where  should  they 
go  ?  And  besides,  the  fate  of  runaway  slaves  was  before 
their  eyes. 

Meanwhile   Zeno   sat   in  his  balconied   room   alone. 


102  ARETHUSA 


CHAP. 


Omobono  had  delivered  the  receipt  and  had  simply  told 
him  that  sixteen  ducats  had  been  saved  on  the  bargain, 
though  Rustan  did  not  wish  it  known.  Thereupon  Zeno 
gave  the  secretary  a  couple  of  ducats  for  himself,  which 
Omobono  saw  no  reason  for  not  taking. 

Zeno  was  preoccupied  and  chose  to  be  alone,  so  he 
dismissed  his  secretary  with  injunctions  to  rest  after 
the  labour  of  installing  the  new  arrival,  which  had  not 
been  light,  and  he  walked  up  and  down  his  room  in  deep 
thought.  He  had  acted  on  an  impulse  altogether  against 
his  own  judgment,  and  now  he  was  faced  by  the  un 
pleasant  necessity  of  justifying  his  conduct  in  his  own 
eyes. 

One  thing  was  quite  clear ;  so  long  as  he  did  not  draw 
from  the  house  of  Corner  the  money  which  Marco  Pesaro 
had  sent  to  the  banker  for  the  commission,  the  mer 
chandise  was  his  property,  since  he  had  paid  for  it. 
But  he  must  make  up  his  mind  whether  he  meant  to  call 
it  his  own,  or  not.  If  he  decided  to  keep  Arethusa,  he 
must  at  once  set  about  finding  another  slave  for  Marco 
Pesaro,  or  else  write  to  say  that  he  declined  to  execute 
the  commission. 

In  that  case,  Arethusa  remained  his.  The  reason  why 
he  had  so  suddenly  determined  to  buy  her  was  that  he 
fancied  she  was  a  girl  of  good  family  whom  some  great 
misfortune  had  brought  into  her  present  distress.  But 
she  had  calmly  declared  that  she  was  a  slave,  and  ex 
pected  nothing  better  than  to  be  sold. 

If  this  were  true  he  had  paid  four  hundred  ducats  for 
a  foolish  fancy.  She  was  perhaps  the  child  of  some 


vi  ABETHUSA  103 

beautiful  slave,  and  had  been  carefully  educated  by  her 
mother's  owner;  and  the  latter,  needing  money  per 
haps,  had  sent  her  to  the  market;  or  perhaps  he  had 
died  and  his  heirs  were  selling  his  property. 

All  this  was  very  unsatisfactory.  If  she  was  slave- 
born,  Zeno's  best  course  was  to  send  Arethusa  to  Pesaro, 
as  soon  as  the  Venetian  ship  sailed,  for  he  had  not  the 
least  intention  of  wasting  money  in  a  futile  attempt  to 
free  slaves  whom  the  law  regarded  as  born  to  their 
condition.  Their  position  was  a  misfortune,  no  doubt, 
but  they  were  used  to  it,  and  no  one  had  then  dreamed 
of  man's  inherent  right  of  freedom,  excepting  one  or  two 
popes  and  fanatics  who  had  been  considered  visionaries. 
To  Zeno,  who  was  a  man  of  his  own  times,  it  seemed  quite 
as  absurd  that  every  one  should  be  born  free,  as  it  would 
seem  to  you  that  everybody  should  be  born  an  English 
duke,  a  Tammany  boss,  a  great  opera  tenor,  or  Crown 
Prince  of  the  Empire.  Moreover,  in  the  case  of  a  beauty, 
especially  of  one  sold  to  live  in  Venice,  there  were  pal 
liations,  as  Zeno  knew.  Arethusa  would  live  in  luxury ; 
she  would  also  soon  be  the  real  dominant  in  Marco 
Pesaro' s  household,  as  favourite  slaves  very  generally 
were  in  the  palaces  of  those  who  owned  them.  They 
had  not  yet  all  the  vast  influence  in  Venice  which  they 
gained  in  the  following  century,  but  their  power  was 
already  waxing  balefully. 

Zeno  did  not  hesitate  long ;  he  never  did,  and  when  he 
had  made  up  his  mind  he  sent  for  one  of  Arethusa's  maids. 

'What  is  your  name,  child?'  he  asked,  scrutinising 
the  girl's  commonplace  features  and  intelligent  eyes. 


104  ARETHUSA 


CHAP. 


'  Yulia,  Magnificence/  she  answered.  '  If  it  please  you/ 
she  added  diffidently,  as  if  half-expecting  that  he  would 
choose  to  call  her  something  else. 

'Yulia/  repeated  Zeno,  fixing  the  name  in  his  mem 
ory,  '  and  what  do  you  call  your  mistress  ? '  he  asked 
abruptly. 

The  girl  was  puzzled  by  the  question. 

'Her  name  is  Arethusa/  she  answered,  after  a  mo 
ment's  reflection. 

'I  know  that.  But  when  you  speak  to  her,  what  do 
you  call  her  ?  When  she  gives  you  an  order,  how  do  you 
answer  her?  You  do  not  merely  say,  "Yes,  Arethusa," 
or  " No,  Arethusa,"  do  you  ?  She  would  not  be  pleased.' 

Yulia  smiled  and  shook  her  head. 

'We  call  her  Kok6na/  she  answered.  'Is  not  that 
the  Greek  word  for  young  lady,  your  Magnificence?' 

'Yes/  said  Zeno,  'that  is  the  Greek  word  for  young 
lady.  But  Arethusa  is  only  a  slave  as  you  are.  Why 
do  you  give  her  a  title?  What  makes  you  think  she 
is  a  lady  ? ' 

'  She  is  a  different  kind  of  slave.  She  cost  much  gold. 
Besides,  if  we  did  not  call  her  Kokona  she  would  perhaps 
pull  our  hair  or  scratch  our  faces.  Who  knows?  We 
are  only  ignorant  little  maids,  but  so  much  the  big 
negress  at  the  slave-prison  taught  us.' 

'She  taught  you  manners,  did  she?'  Zeno  smiled  at 
the  idea. 

'  She  made  us  cry  very  often,  but  it  was  the  better  for 
us/  answered  the  maid,  with  philosophy  beyond  her 
years.  'We  have  fetched  a  good  price,  and  we  have 


VI 


AEETHUSA  105 


a  good  master,  and  we  are  together,  all  because  we  waited 
cleverly  on  the  Kokona  one  night  and  one  morning.' 

'  One  night  ? '  asked  Zeno,  in  surprise. 

'She  was  only  brought  to  the  slave-prison  yesterday 
evening,  Magnificence.' 

'At  what  time?' 

'It  was  the  third  hour  of  darkness,  for  the  black 
woman  sent  the  others  to  bed  as  soon  as  she  was  brought.' 

Zeno  thought  over  this  information  for  a  moment. 

'Tell  her,'  said  he,  'that  I  shall  sup  with  her  this 
evening.  That  is  all.' 

Yulia,  who  had  kept  her  hands  respectfully  before  her, 
made  a  little  obeisance,  turned  quickly,  and  ran  away, 
leaving  the  master  of  the  house  to  his  meditations. 
She  found  Zoe  still  sitting  by  the  window,  and  the 
dainty  dishes  which  Lucilla  had  received  on  a  chiselled 
bronze  tray  and  had  placed  beside  her  were  untasted. 

'The  master  bids  me  say  that  he  will  sup  with  you 
to-night,  Kokona/  said  Yulia. 

Zoe  made  a  slight  movement,  but  controlled  herself, 
and  said  nothing,  though  the  colour  rose  to  her  face, 
and  she  turned  quite  away  from  the  maids  lest  they 
should  see  it.  They  stood  still  a  long  time,  waiting 
her  pleasure. 

'  Will  it  not  please  you  to  eat  something  ? '  asked  Yulia 
timidly,  after  a  time.  'You  have  eaten  nothing  since 
last  night,  and  even  then  it  was  little.' 

'I  thought  I  ate  all  the  sweetmeats,'  answered  Zoe? 
turning  and  smiling  a  little  at  the  recollection  of  the 
girls'  terror. 


106  ARETHUSA  CHAP. 

The  hours  passed  and  nothing  happened.  Some  time 
after  dinner  she  saw  from  her  upper  window  that  Zeno 
came  out  of  the  house  and  went  down  the  marble  steps  to 
a  beautiful  skiff  that  was  waiting  there.  As  he  stepped 
in,  she  drew  far  back  from  the  window  lest  he  should 
look  up  and  see  that  she  had  been  watching  him.  She 
heard  his  voice  as  he  gave  an  order  to  the  two  water 
men;  their  oars  fell  with  a  gentle  plash,  and  when  she 
looked  again  they  were  pulling  the  boat  away  upstream, 
towards  the  palace  of  Blachernse  and  the  Sweet  Waters. 

The  maids,  having  eaten  of  the  most  delicious  food 
they  had  ever  tasted  till  they  could  eat  no  more,  had 
curled  themselves  up  together  on  a  carpet  not  far  from 
their  mistress,  and  were  fast  asleep.  The  shadow  of  the 
house  lengthened  till  it  slanted  out  to  the  right  beyond 
the  marble  steps  upon  the  placid  water,  and  the  bright 
sunlight  that  fell  on  Pera  and  Galata  began  to  turn 
golden ;  so,  when  gold  has  been  melted  to  white  heat  in 
the  crucible,  it  begins  to  cool,  grows  tawny,  and  is  shot 
with  streaks  of  red. 

As  the  day  waned  in  a  purple  haze  and  the  air  grew 
colder,  the  two  maids  awoke  together,  rubbed  their  eyes, 
and  instantly  sprung  to  their  feet.  Zoe  had  not  even 
noticed  them,  but  just  then  the  even  plashing  of  oars 
was  heard  again,  and  she  saw  the  skiff  coming  back,  but 
without  Zeno.  She  looked  again  to  be  sure  that  it  was 
the  same  boat,  and  a  ray  of  hope  flashed  in  her  thoughts 
like  summer  lightning.  Perhaps  he  had  changed  his 
mind,  and  would  not  come  —  not  to-night. 

The  maids  reminded  her  of  his  message,  and  she  let 


VI 


ARETHUSA  107 


them  dress  her  again  for  the  evening.  They  arranged 
her  hair,  and  twined  strings  of  pearls  in  it,  which  they  had 
found  in  a  sandal-wood  box  on  the  dressing-table.  They 
took  clothes  from  the  wardrobes,  fine  linen,  wrought  with 
wonderful  needlework,  and  pale  silks,  and  velvet  of 
faintest  blue  embroidered  with  silver  threads ;  and  when 
they  had  done  their  best  they  held  two  burnished  metal 
mirrors  before  her  and  behind  her,  that  she  might  ad 
mire  herself.  They  had  lighted  many  little  lamps  that 
were  all  prepared,  for  it  was  now  dark  out  of  doors,  and 
they  had  spent  two  hours  in  arraying  Zoe.  And  she 
smiled  and  patted  their  cheeks,  and  called  them  clever 
girls,  for  she  was  sure  that  Zeno  had  changed  his  mind. 
He  would  not  come  to  her  to-night. 

But  even  as  she  repeated  the  words  to  herself,  he  came 
softly  through  the  warm  lamplight  and  stood  before  her, 
and  her  heart  stopped  beating. 

For  the  first  time  since  she  had  taken  the  final  step, 
she  felt  the  whole  extent  and  meaning  of  what  she  had 
done.  She  was  really  a  slave,  and  she  was  alone  with 
her  master. 


CHAPTER   VII 

'  ARE  you  afraid  of  me  ? ' 

Zeno  asked  the  question  gently,  for  the  colour  had 
left  her  face ;  and  she  looked  up  at  him  with  a  frightened 
stare.  He  had  once  seen  a  like  terror  in  the  eyes  of  a 
startled  doe,  as  if  a  clouded  opal  passed  across  its  sight. 

Zoe  did  not  answer,  but  she  moved  instinctively, 
drawing  herself  together,  as  it  were,  and  turning  one 
shoulder  to  him.  He  heard  her  breathing  hard. 

It  was  a  very  new  thing  that  he  felt;  for  often,  in 
fight,  and  often  again,  he  had  seen  strong  men  turn  pale 
before  him,  just  when  they  felt  that  he  was  a  master  of 
the  sword  and  was  going  to  kill,  but  he  had  never  seen 
a  woman  afraid  of  him  in  his  life.  In  his  narrow  experi 
ence,  they  had  always  seemed  glad  that  he  should  be 
near  them,  and  should  speak  to  them.  Therefore,  when 
he  saw  that  Zoe  was  terrified,  he  did  not  know  what  to 
do  or  say,  and  he  stupidly  repeated  his  question, 

'Are  you  afraid  of  me?' 

Zoe  dug  her  little  nails  into  the  palms  of  her  hands, 
and  looked  round  the  room,  as  if  for  help ;  but  the  two 
maids  had  disappeared  as  soon  as  the  master  had  en 
tered,  for  so  they  had  been  taught  to  do  by  their  trainer. 
She  was  quite  alone  with  the  man  who  had  paid  for  her. 

108 


All  sorts  of  confused  thoughts  crowded  her  brain,  as  Zeno  sat  down  on  a  seat 
beside  the  divan. 


CHAP,  vii  ARETHUSA  109 

All  sorts  of  confused  thoughts  crowded  her  brain,  as 
Zeno  sat  down  on  a  seat  beside  the  divan.  She  won 
dered  what  would  happen  if  she  told  him  her  story  in 
a  few  words,  and  appealed  to  his  generosity.  She  guessed 
that  he  was  kind;  at  least,  sometimes.  But  perhaps 
he  was  a  friend  of  the  new  Emperor,  and  it  would  amuse 
him  to  know  that  he  had  bought  Michael  Rhangabe's 
daughter.  Or  he  might  send  for  Rustan,  and  insist 
on  revoking  the  bargain,  and  Rustan  might  take  her 
back  to  the  beggars'  quarter,  and  force  poor  Kyria  Agatha 
to  give  up  the  money.  Zoe  knew  at  once  little  and  much 
of  the  world  of  Constantinople,  but  of  one  thing  she 
was  certain,  there  would  be  neither  mercy  nor  kindness 
for  any  of  her  name  while  Andronicus  reigned  in  Bla- 
chernse. 

She  was  terrified  by  the  presence  of  her  master,  but 
she  was  perfectly  brave  in  her  resolve ;  the  sight  of  death 
itself  before  her  eyes  should  not  make  her  do  anything 
whereby  those  for  whom  she  had  sold  herself  might 
suffer. 

Zeno  sat  still  and  looked  at  her.  It  seemed  to  him  that 
she  was  far  more  beautiful  than  he  had  at  first  realised. 
As  she  leaned  sideways  against  the  big  cushions,  turning 
her  face  away  and  her  shoulder  towards  him,  there  was 
something  in  the  line  of  her  cheek  and  of  her  neck  where 
it  joined  the  ear,  and  in  the  little  downy  ringlets  at  the 
roots  of  her  hair  that  stirred  his  blood,  against  his  will. 
Also,  the  devil  came  and  whispered  to  his  heart  that  she 
was  his  personal  property,  as  much  as  his  horse,  his 
house  and  his  stores  of  merchandise.  The  laws  about 


110  AEETHUSA 


CHAP. 


slaves  were  uncertain  enough  in  Italy,  but  there  was  no 
doubt  of  the  law  in  Constantinople.  The  slave  Are- 
thusa,  weighing  so  many  talents  and  minse,  having  so 
many  sound  teeth,  and  other  good  points,  was  the  abso 
lute  property  of  Carlo  Zeno.  He  might  kill  her,  if  he 
liked,  in  any  way  he  chose,  and  the  law  would  not  call 
it  murder.  There  would  be  one  slave  less,  and  he  would 
have  thrown  away  four  hundred  gold  ducats;  but  that 
would  be  all. 

She  seemed  to  him  the  most  beautiful  creature  in  the 
world,  and  the  devil  was  not  suggesting  that  he  should 
kill  her ;  not  by  any  means. 

For  a  long  time,  the  man  and  his  slave  were  silent,  and 
scarcely  moved,  and  neither  of  them  afterwards  forgot 
those  minutes.  In  their  thoughts  each  was  struggling 
with  what  seemed  an  impossibility,  a  something  which 
could  never  be  done.  The  high-born  girl,  for  the  sake 
of  a  mother  who  was  not  her  mother,  and  of  brothers 
who  were  not  of  her  blood,  was  resolved  to  be  to  the  end 
what  she  had  made  herself  to  save  their  lives,  the  obe 
dient  slave  of  a  merchant  who  had  paid  gold  for  her. 
It  was  worse  than  death,  but  if  she  did  not  die  of  it, 
she  must  live  through  it,  lest  the  good  she  had  done 
should  be  undone  again. 

The  man  who  had  the  law's  own  right  of  life  and  death 
over  her,  and  whose  warm  young  blood  her  beauty  stirred 
so  profoundly,  chose  to  resist  and  play  that  he  was  not 
the  master  after  all.  His  lean  face  was  calm  enough 
in  the  quiet  lamplight,  as  it  would  have  been  in  raging 
battle;  but  within  was  that  he  would  not  care  to  feel 


vii  ARETHUSA  111 

again,  nor  perhaps  to  let  others  know  that  he  had 
felt. 

At  last,  wondering  at  the  stillness,  half-believing  and 
quite  hoping  that  he  was  no  longer  in  the  room,  Zoe 
turned  her  head.  His  eyes  were  on  her,  but  there  was 
something  in  them  that  she  could  not  fear. 

'Tell  me  who  you  are/  he  said  quietly. 

Of  all  questions  she  had  least  expected  this  one, 
which  seemed  so  natural  to  him.  She  waited  a  mo 
ment  before  she  spoke. 

'Are  you  dissatisfied,  sir?'  she  asked  in  a  low  voice. 
'Has  the  Bokharian  cheated  you?' 

'No!    What  a  thought!' 

'  Then  you  know  what  I  am,  and  I  can  tell  you  nothing 
more,  my  lord.  Can  a  slave  have  a  pedigree  ? ' 

1 1  do  not  believe  that  you  were  born  a  slave,'  said  Zeno, 
leaning  forward  a  little  and  looking  into  her  eyes. 

After  a  moment,  her  lids  drooped  under  his  gaze,  but 
she  would  not  speak. 

'Have  you  nothing  to  say?'  he  asked,  disappointed 
at  her  silence. 

Again  the  temptation  seized  her  to  tell  him  all,  since 
he  spoke  so  kindly ;  but  still  she  thought  of  what  might 
happen  to  Kyria  Agatha. 

'I  am  your  bought  slave,'  she  said,  almost  directly. 
'I  have  nothing  else  to  tell.' 

'  But  you  had  a  mother  ? ' 

'I  never  knew  her.' 

'Your  father,  then?' 

'I  never  knew  him.' 


112  ARETHUSA 


CHAP. 


Zeno  was  not  always  patient,  even  with  women,  and 
there  was  no  reason  why  he  should  be  forbearing  with 
his  own  property. 

'I  do  not  believe  you/  he  said  in  a  tone  of  annoyance, 
and  he  rose  and  began  to  pace  the  room. 

Now  it  chanced  that  Zoe  had  been  able  to  answer 
his  last  two  questions  quite  truthfully,  for  she  had  not 
the  least  recollection  of  her  own  father  and  mother, 
who  had  died  of  the  plague  when  she  was  three  months 
old. 

'I  will  swear  to  you  on  all  holy  things  that  it  is  true/ 
she  said,  watching  him. 

He  made  an  impatient  gesture. 

'A  slave  cannot  take  an  oath/  he  answered  roughly. 

Zoe  lifted  her  beautiful  head  at  once,  and  her  eyes 
shone;  but  he  did  not  see,  for  he  had  turned  his  back 
on  her  in  his  walk,  and  a  moment  later  she  resumed  her 
former  submissive  attitude. 

Zeno  stopped  near  the  door  and  clapped  his  hands; 
the  two  maids  appeared. 

'  Bring  supper/  he  said. 

As  they  went  to  obey  he  came  back  and  sat  down 
again  beside  the  divan.  There  was  just  room  to  place 
a  small  table  between  him  and  Zoe.  The  girls  came 
back  and  waited  on  them,  but  neither  spoke.  Zeno  pre 
pared  a  salad  himself  with  ingredients  brought  ready  for 
making  it,  and  when  it  was  dressed  he  helped  Zoe  to  a 
little  of  it.  She  had  watched  him,  for  the  Italian  custom 
was  new  to  her  and  she  had  never  known  how  a  salad 
was  composed.  Zeno  poured  Greek  wine  into  her  glass, 


vii  AKETHUSA  113 

a  delicate  white  goblet  from  Murano,  with  faint  blue 
lines  round  the  stem.  But  she  neither  ate  nor  drank. 

'Go/  said  Zeno  to  the  maids.     'I  will  call  you.' 

The  two  slipped  away  noiselessly.  Zeno  had  forgotten 
his  displeasure,  and  he  felt  her  presence  again. 

'You  must  eat  and  drink/  he  said  gently.  'If  there 
is  anything  you  like,  tell  me.  You  shall  have  it.' 

'You  are  kind/  she  answered,  but  she  did  not  lift  her 
hand.  'I  have  no  appetite/  she  added,  after  a  little 
pause. 

I  do  not  know  why  no  man  believes  a  woman  when 
she  says  that  she  is  not  hungry.  Zeno  was  annoyed,  and 
by  way  of  showing  his  displeasure  he  himself  began  to  eat 
more  than  he  wanted.  Zoe  looked  on  in  silence  while 
he  finished  another  bird  and  all  the  salad  he  had  made. 
She  would  not  have  been  a  woman  if  she  had  not  seen 
that  he  felt  a  little  shy,  all  at  once,  as  the  most  fearless 
and  energetic  men  may  before  a  woman  they  do  not 
understand.  Then  there  was  a  change  for  the  better 
in  her  own  state;  she  breathed  more  freely,  her  heart 
beat  more  steadily,  the  weight  that  lay  like  lead  on  her 
chest,  just  below  her  throat,  was  lightened.  When  a 
woman  sees  that  a  man  is  shy  with  her,  she  is  sure  that 
sooner  or  later  he  will  turn  at  her  will;  and  though  she 
is  sometimes  mistaken,  the  chances  are  that  she  is  right. 

Zeno  had  never  been  shy  before;  but  now,  when  he 
wished  to  speak,  he  could  find  nothing  to  say,  and  Zoe 
knew  it,  and  would  not  help  him.  It  was  strange  that 
as  her  fear  subsided  she  thought  him  handsomer  than  at 
first  sight,  in  the  morning.  When  he  had  finished  eating, 


114  AEETHUSA 


CHAP. 


he  drank  some  wine,  set  down  the  glass,  and  looked  at 
her  with  an  expression  that  was  meant  to  show  some 
thing  like  anger ;  for  he  already  regretted  the  time  — 
distant  five  minutes  —  when  she  had  been  afraid  of 
him,  and  he  had  been  master  of  the  situation.  He  drew 
his  brows  together,  set  his  lips,  and  glared  at  her,  but  to 
his  amazement  she  did  not  seem  frightened.  He  had 
lost  the  thread,  for  the  time,  and  she  had  found  it.  She 
answered  his  look  with  one  of  gentle  surprise. 

'Have  you  finished  supper  already?'  she  asked 
sweetly. 

A  slight  flush  rose  in  his  brown  cheek,  as  he  felt  his 
shyness  increase,  but  he  kept  his  eyes  steadily  on  her. 

'You  do  not  seem  to  be  afraid  of  me  any  longer/ he 
said,  by  way  of  answer. 

'Have  I  anything  to  fear  from  you?'  she  asked,  in 
a  trusting  tone. 

She  risked  everything  on  the  question,  or  thought  she 
did.  She  won.  His  face  changed  and  softened,  for  by 
appealing  to  his  generosity  she  had  put  him  at  ease. 

'No,'  he  answered.  'You  never  were  in  danger  from 
me.  Besides/  he  added,  with  something  like  an  effort, 
'I  have  not  made  up  my  mind  what  to  do  with  you.' 

Zoe  sat  up  straight,  resting  one  hand  on  the  edge  of 
the  little  table. 

'The  truth  is/  he  went  on,  'I  did  not  buy  you  for 
myself.' 

Zoe  made  a  quick  movement  in  her  seat.  Then  her 
tender  mouth  hardened  in  a  look  of  contempt. 

'So  you  are  only   another  slave-dealer!'   she   cried 


VII 


ARETHUSA  115 


scornfully.  But  Zeno  laughed  at  the  mere  idea,  and  was 
glad  to  laugh.  It  was  a  relief. 

'No/  he  said,  'I  am  not  a  slave-dealer.  I  am  a  Vene 
tian  merchant,  I  believe.  I  have  been  a  soldier,  and  I 
came  near  being  a  prebendary!' 

'A  priest!'    Zoe's  face  showed  her  disgust. 

'No,  for  I  never  was  in  orders/  answered  Zeno,  grow 
ing  more  sure  of  himself  as  she  grew  more  angry.  'But 
as  for  you,  a  friend  of  mine,  a  rich  gentleman  of  Venice, 
has  asked  me  as  a  favour  to  send  him  the  most  beautiful 
slave  to  be  had  in  Constantinople  for  the  large  price  he 
named.  As  a  matter  of  fact ' 

But  here  he  was  interrupted,  for  Zoe  turned  from  him 
and  buried  her  face  in  the  leathern  cushion.  Her  body 
shook  a  little,  and  Zeno  thought  she  was  crying.  She 
had  grown  almost  used  to  him,  and  had  begun  to  feel 
that  she  might  have  some  power  over  him ;  and  she  was 
ashamed  to  own  that  he  attracted  her,  though  she  meant 
to  hate  him.  But  the  idea  that  he  had  only  bought  her 
like  a  piece  of  goods,  to  pass  her  on  to  an  unknown  man 
far  away,  was  more  than  she  could  bear  at  first.  More 
over,  though  the  idea  of  eating  sickened  her,  she  was 
really  weakened  by  need  of  food,  and  she  had  under 
gone  within  twenty-four  hours  as  much  as  her  nature 
could  bear  without  breaking  down  in  some  way. 

Zeno  was  distressed,  and  bent  over  her,  rather  awk 
wardly,  anxious  to  soothe  her.  She  turned  her  face  to 
him  suddenly,  without  warning,  and  he  saw  that  her 
eyes  were  dry  and  her  cheeks  flushed. 

'Venice  is  a  beautiful  city/  he  said  coaxingly.    'You 


116  ARETHUSA 


CHAP. 


will  be  a  great  person  in  my  friend's  house  —  he  will 
give  you ' 

'When  are  you  going  to  send  me?  To-morrow?' 
The  girl  had  mastered  herself  a  little. 

'I  have  told  you  that  I  have  not  made  up  my  mind 
about  you/  Zeno  answered.  'The  money  I  gave  the 
Bokharian  was  my  own.  I  may  keep  you  here  after  all.' 

Zoe  detested  him  in  that  moment.  She  longed  to  in 
sult  him,  to  strike  him,  to  drive  him  away.  There  was 
something  so  condescending  in  what  he  said.  He  would 
make  up  his  mind  about  her !  He  might  keep  her  after 
all !  He  had  paid  his  own  money  for  her !  It  was  not 
possible  that  she  could  have  thought  him  handsome, 
that  she  could  have  been  even  momentarily  attracted 
by  his  face,  his  manner,  or  his  voice. 

'I  hate  you!'  she  cried,  shutting  her  teeth  tightly 
as  she  spoke. 

He  was  near  her,  and  she  drew  back  from  him  as  far 
as  she  could  against  the  cushions  of  the  divan.  He 
resumed  his  seat,  for  he  saw  how  angry  she  was.  He 
had  purposely  spoken  as  if  she  were  really  the  slave  she 
told  him  that  she  was,  and  against  the  natural  instinct 
which  bade  him  treat  her  as  his  equal. 

'Indeed,'  he  said  coldly,  and  he  took  a  cracked  walnut 
from  the  table  and  began  to  peel  the  kernel,  'it  is  not 
easy  to  know  what  will  please  you.  You  seem  horrified 
at  the  idea  of  going  to  Venice  and  furious  at  the  thought 
of  staying  here !  Of  course,  there  is  a  third  possibility. 
I  would  not  send  my  friend  a  slave  who  would  be  so 
discontented  as  to  poison  him  and  his  family,  and  I  shall 


TII  ARETHUSA  117 

certainly  not  keep  one  in  my  house  who  hates  me  and 
may  take  it  into  her  head  to  cut  my  throat  in  my  sleep. 
The  only  thing  that  remains  will  be  to  sell  you  back  to 
the  Bokharian  at  a  loss.  Should  you  like  that?' 

Zoe  felt  again  that  he  was  her  master. 

1  You  made  me  think  you  would  be  kind  to  me !'  she 
said,  and  her  voice  quavered. 

Zeno  laughed,  for  he  had  been  too  much  annoyed 
to  yield  at  once  to  her  appeal. 

'  That  did  not  prevent  you  from  saying  that  you  hated 
me,  a  while  ago/  he  answered.  'You  must  not  expect 
too  much  Christian  virtue  of  me,  for  I  am  no  saint.  I 
never  learned  to  love  those  that  hate  me  !' 

She  liked  him  better  now ;  as  he  threw  back  his  head 
a  little,  looking  at  her  from  under  his  half-closed  lids, 
she  glanced  at  his  brown  throat  and  she  did  not  think 
of  cutting  it,  as  he  had  suggested.  But  she  was  angry 
with  herself  for  passing  through  so  many  phases  of  like 
and  dislike  in  so  short  a  time,  and  for  not  feeling  relief 
at  the  thought  of  being  sent  on  a  long  journey,  which 
certainly  would  mean  safety  while  it  lasted,  and  perhaps 
a  chance  of  freedom.  She  wondered,  too,  why  she  no 
longer  wished  to  die  outright  now  that  she  had  saved 
Kyrfa  Agatha.  Her  answer  to  his  last  speech  was  humble. 

'You  made  me  say  it/  she  said.    'I  am  sorry,  sir.7 

1  At  least,  I  have  learnt  that  you  would  rather  stay 
here  than  go  back  to  Rustan  Karaboghazji  and  that 
gentle  wife  of  his  —  his  red-haired  dove!' 

'  Any  thing  rather  than  that!' 

Her  tone  was  earnest,  for  it  was  the  fate  she  feared 


118  ARKTHUSA  CHAP. 

most,  both  for  herself  and  because  she  fancied  that  the 
dealer  would  in  some  way  claim  his  money  from  Kyria 
Agatha.  Zeno  was  apparently  satisfied  with  her  answer, 
for  he  looked  more  kindly  at  her  and  was  silent  for  a 
time.  Again  he  allowed  his  eyes  to  be  delighted  with 
her  beauty. 

'I  will  not  send  you  back/  he  said  at  last ;  and  he  held 
out  his  hand  towards  her,  as  if  he  were  giving  a  promise 
to  an  equal. 

She  was  grateful,  but  she  thought  that  perhaps  he 
was  trying  to  make  her  betray  her  birth.  No  slave 
would  take  the  master's  hand  familiarly  in  her  own ;  she 
knew  the  ways  of  slaves,  for  there  had  been  many  in  her 
adopted  father's  house,  and  she  touched  the  tips  of 
Zeno's  fingers  with  her  own  and  pressed  her  lips  to  the 
back  of  her  own  hand  when  she  withdrew  it.  The  action 
disconcerted  him  a  little,  for  it  was  performed  perfectly, 
with  all  the  deference  of  born  servitude. 

'You  were  not  long  in  Rustan's  house,  were  you?' 
he  asked,  not  seeming  to  be  much  interested  in  the  answer, 
for  he  hoped  to  take  her  unawares. 

If  she  told  the  truth,  which  he  knew,  he  would  show 
surprise  and  press  her  with  another  question;  if  she 
answered  with  an  untruth  he  should  gain  that  much 
knowledge  of  her  character  for  future  use.  Quick-witted, 
she  did  neither. 

'It  pleased  my  lord  to  remind  me  a  while  ago  that  a 
slave's  oath  is  never  to  be  believed,'  she  said.  'It  is 
the  law  that  a  slave  must  be  tortured  when  giving  evi 
dence,  is  it  not?' 


vii  ARETHUSA  119 

'I  believe  it  is/  answered  Zeno,  with  a  smile.  'But 
you  are  quite  safe !  I  only  ask  you  how  long  you  were 
in  Rustan's  house/ 

'One  night  and  part  of  a  day/  Zoe  answered  after  a 
moment. 

Zeno  pretended  surprise. 

'So  short  a  time!  Then  he  only  bought  you  yester 
day?' 

'Yesterday  evening.' 

'  And  of  whom  ?    Will  you  tell  me  that  ? ' 

Zoe  reflected  a  moment  and  then  smiled. 

'Yes.  I  will  tell  you  that.  He  bought  me  of  a  lady 
of  Constantinople,  in  whose  closest  intimacy  I  was  brought 
up.  She  is  just  of  my  own  age  and  we  are  much 
alike.' 

'I  see/  said  Zeno,  completely  deceived,  and  speaking 
almost  to  himself.  'Poor  girl!  The  same  father,  I 
suppose  —  hence  the ' 

Zoe  drooped  her  eyes  and  looked  at  the  carpet. 

'  Yes  —  since  you  have  guessed  it,  sir.  We  had  the 
same  father,  though  we  never  knew  him.  He  died  of 
the  plague  when  we  were  a  few  months  old.' 

Zeno  was  perfectly  satisfied  with  this  logical  explana 
tion  which  entirely  explained  Zoe's  aristocratic  beauty, 
her  nobility  of  manner,  and  the  delicate  rearing  that  was 
so  apparent  in  all  her  ways,  as  well  as  the  fearlessness 
which  had  made  her  turn  upon  him  and  tell  him  that  she 
hated  him.  The  only  point  he  could  not  understand, 
was  that  Zoe  should  have  smiled.  But  he  thought,  as 
was  quite  possible,  that  there  might  have  been  jealousy 


120  ABETHUSA 


CHAP. 


and  even  hatred  between  the  mistress  and  her  slave- 
born  sister,  and  he  would  not  enquire  too  closely  yet, 
since  all  was  so  clear  to  him.  Such  unnatural  doings 
were  not  rare  in  a  city  half-filled  with  slaves.  Zoe's 
mistress  had  probably  sold  her  in  a  fit  of  anger,  or  per 
haps  deliberately  and  with  a  cruel  purpose,  or  even  out 
of  avarice,  to  buy  a  string  of  pearls. 

The  girl  did  not  offer  to  say  more,  but  she  looked 
away  from  her  owner  and  seemed  to  be  thinking  of  the 
past,  as  indeed  she  was,  though  it  was  so  different  from 
that  which  his  imagination  was  inventing  for  her. 

He,  on  his  side,  peeled  another  walnut  thoughtfully, 
and  looked  at  her  from  time  to  time,  sure  that  he  knew 
the  truth,  and  wondering  what  he  ought  to  do,  and  above 
all  what  he  really  wished  to  do.  He  had  believed  her 
deeply  wronged,  and  had  paid  a  great  sum  to  redress  that 
wrong,  almost  without  hesitating,  because  it  was  his 
nature  to  help  any  one  in  distress,  and  because  he,  who 
counted  neither  life  nor  limb  when  his  cause  was  good, 
had  never  counted  such  stuff  as  gold  in  a  like  case. 

But  now,  it  was  all  clear.  She  was  a  slave,  in  spite  of 
all  appearances.  She  had  suffered  no  injustice;  her 
smile  had  told  him  that  the  change  in  her  life  had  not 
been  to  greater  unhappiness.  That  she  should  fear  to 
be  sent  back  to  Rustan  was  only  natural ;  she,  who  had 
no  doubt  always  lived  delicately  in  the  great  house 
where  she  had  been  born,  must  have  felt  the  sordidness 
and  the  degradation  of  the  slave-prison,  in  spite  of  the 
special  care  she  had  received  in  consideration  of  her 
beauty  and  value.  Very  likely,  too,  she  had  not  much 


vii  AKBTHUSA  121 

real  feeling,  in  spite  of  her  behaviour;  slave  women 
rarely  have. 

What  should  he  do  with  her?  He  was  passionate 
rather  than  material  or  pleasure-loving;  he  was  conse 
quently  an  optimist  and  an  idealist  where  women  were 
concerned,  and  was  full  of  a  vague  belief  in  the  roman 
tic  side  of  love.  He  could  no  more  really  love  a  slave- 
girl  than  he  could  have  loved  a  hired  maid,  though  she 
might  be  beautiful  beyond  comparison,  for  he  was  in 
capable  of  attaching  himself  to  beauty  alone.  Only 
his  equal  could  be  his  mate,  and  he  never  could  care  long 
or  truly  for  any  creature  that  was  less.  At  twenty, 
the  youth  in  him  would  have  boiled  up  and  over  for  a 
week,  or  a  month;  but  he  was  verging  on  thirty,  his 
thirty  years  that  had  been  crammed  with  the  deeds  of 
many  a  daring  man's  whole  life-time,  and  his  nature  had 
hardened  in  a  nobler  mould  than  his  early  youth  had 
promised.  He  would  not  make  a  plaything  of  any 
woman  now ;  and  since  he  would  not,  he  wondered  what 
he  should  do  with  Zoe,  now  that  she  was  his. 

In  this  mood  of  uncertainty  he  rose  to  leave  her,  more 
or  less  resolved  not  to  see  her  again  until  he  had  come 
to  some  conclusion  as  to  her  future;  for  in  spite  of  all 
he  still  felt  himself  attracted  to  her,  and  the  line  of  her 
cheek  and  throat  when  her  face  was  half-turned  away 
was  of  exquisite  beauty.  Standing  beside  her  for  a 
moment,  he  knew  that  if  ever  again  in  his  life  he  stooped 
to  take  a  woman  for  a  toy,  lovelessly,  stupidly,  contemp 
tibly,  the  plaything  would  be  this  Arethusa  whom  he 
had  bought  of  a  scoundrelly  Bokharian  dealer. 


122  ARETHTJSA  CHAP. 

'Good-night/  he  said,  looking  down  into  her  upturned 
eyes.  'If  you  need  anything,  if  you  want  anything, 
send  for  Omobono,  and  you  shall  have  it.  Good-night, 
Arethusa.' 

It  was  the  first  time  he  had  called  her  by  her  name, 
as  he  knew  it.  He  did  not  even  hold  out  his  hand. 
She  looked  up  steadily. 

'  What  shall  you  do  with  me  ? '  she  asked,  very  anxiously, 
surprised  by  his  sudden  leave-taking. 

She  was  so  lovely  then  that  he  felt  a  despicable  im 
pulse  to  take  her  into  his  arms,  just  for  her  loveliness, 
and  close  her  sad  eyes  with  kisses.  Instead,  he  shook 
his  head  and  turned  away. 

'I  do  not  know,'  he  said,  half -aloud.  He  reached 
the  door.  '  I  do  not  know/  he  repeated,  as  if  the  problem 
were  very  hard  to  solve;  and  he  went  out,  not  turning 
back  to  look  at  her. 

Thus  ended  the  first  hour  the  slave  spent  with  her 
master;  and  when  he  was  gone  she  felt  suddenly  ex 
hausted,  as  if  she  had  fought  with  her  hands;  and 
strangely  enough  she  knew  all  at  once  that  she  was  weak 
from  want  of  food,  and  that  the  thought  of  eating  no 
longer  disgusted  her.  Half-ashamed  of  herself,  she 
glanced  at  the  door  through  which  Zeno  had  disappeared, 
as  if  she  thought  he  might  come  back,  and  listened,  as 
though  expecting  his  footstep.  Then,  not  seeing  or 
hearing  anything,  she  began  to  eat  quickly,  and  almost 
ravenously,  as  if  she  were  doing  something  to  be  a  little 
ashamed  of,  and  she  hoped  that  the  maids  would  not 
come  in  and  see  her. 


vii  ARETHUSA  123 

She  was  soon  satisfied,  for  it  had  been  a  nervous 
•craving  rather  than  anything  else,  and  every  woman 
who  reads  these  lines  knows  precisely  how  Zoe  felt,  or 
will  know  one  of  these  days ;  for  in  all  that  belongs  to  the 
instinctive  side  of  life,  women  are  much  more  alike  than 
men  are;  whereas,  because  they  are  not  led,  pushed, 
or  dragged  through  one  average  course  of  teaching,  as 
most  men  are,  but  are  left  to  think  and  above  all,  to 
guess  at  truth  for  themselves,  they  are  much  more  unlike 
in  their  way  of  looking  at  things.  This  also  is  the  reason 
why  many  gifted  men  and  a  good  many  really  learned 
ones  would  rather  talk  to  women  than  to  men ;  for  among 
men  they  hear  the  same  things  everlastingly,  but  women 
always  have  something  new  to  say,  which  is  flattering, 
pleasant,  amusing,  or  irritating  —  perhaps,  as  they 
choose.  Women  have  also  a  sort  of  mock-humble, 
wholly  appealing  way  of  asking  the  great  man  how  it 
is  possible  that  he  can  really  care  to  talk  with  a  poor, 
ignorant,  little  woman,  when  he  might  be  engaged  in  a 
memorable  conversation  with  the  other  great  man,  who 
is  talking  to  the  other  poor,  ignorant  little  woman  with 
lovely  eyes,  on  the  other  side  of  the  room.  In  this  way 
we  learn  that  life  is  full  of  contradictions. 

Zoe  slept  ten  hours  without  dreaming,  and  awoke 
refreshed  and  rested,  to  wonder  presently  why  her  mood 
had  changed  so  much.  But  Zeno  was  restless  in  the 
night,  and  dissatisfied  with  himself  and  with  what  he 
had  done ;  when  he  lay  awake  he  found  fault  with  his 
impulsive  action,  but  when  he  fell  asleep  for.  half-an- 
hour  Zoe  haunted  his  dreams.  More  than  once  he  got 


124  AEETHUSA 


CHAP. 


up  and  walked  barefoot  on  the  marble  mosaic  pavement 
of  his  room,  and  he  threw  open  the  shutters  and  looked 
out.  The  night  was  calm  and  clear,  and  the  air  was  al 
most  wintry.  To  the  left  of  Pera's  towering  outline  the 
northern  constellations  shone  bright  and  cold.  Each 
time  he  looked  he  wondered  at  the  slow  motion  of  the 
Bear;  the  seven  stars  hung  above  the  Pole,  for  it  was 
springtime,  and  they  hardly  seemed  to  have  moved  a 
handbreadth  to  their  westward  sinking  in  a  whole  hour, 
when  he  looked  again.  When  morning  came  his  face 
was  a  little  paler  than  usual,  and  he  felt  that  he  was  in 
a  bad  humour. 

Omobono  only  guessed  it  from  a  certain  increase  of 
his  natural  reserve,  but  that  was  enough  for  the  ex 
perienced  secretary,  who  was  wonderfully  careful  not 
to  speak  unless  Zeno  spoke  to  him,  and,  above  all,  not 
to  mention  the  existence  of  the  women's  apartment 
upstairs.  On  the  other  hand,  although  it  was  a  Sunday, 
he  had  expected  to  be  sent  by  his  master  to  draw  the 
money  from  the  house  of  Corner,  according  to  Pesaro's 
letter,  of  which  he  had  thoroughly  mastered  the  contents. 
But  the  order  was  not  given,  and  as  Zeno  was  neither 
forgetful  of  details  nor  slack  in  matters  of  business, 
Omobono  began  to  wonder  what  had  happened. 

On  Monday  Zeno's  mood  had  not  changed,  nor  did 
he  send  for  the  money,  and  the  secretary's  curiosity  grew 
mightily;  on  Tuesday  it  became  almost  unbearable. 
So  far  as  he  knew,  and  he  knew  most  things  that  went 
on  in  the  house,  Zeno  had  only  once  gone  upstairs,  when 
he  had  supped  with  Zoe  on  Saturday  evening,  and  had 


vn 


ARETHTJSA  125 


remained  barely  an  hour.  Since  then  he  had  not  even 
asked  after  the  slave,  and  no  one  had  seen  her  except 
the  two  little  maids,  who  came  out  upon  the  landing 
to  receive  the  meals  at  regular  hours,  but  never  spoke  to 
the  men-servants.  The  secretary  could  have  asked  to 
see  Zoe,  to  enquire  if  she  needed  anything,  and  she 
would  certainly  have  received  him;  but  he  was  afraid 
to  do  so  without  orders,  and  Zeno  gave  none,  and  might 
come  in  at  the  very  moment  when  Omobono  was  there. 
The  industrious  secretary  had  fits  of  abstraction  over 
his  letters  and  accounts,  and  stared  out  of  the  window, 
stroking  his  neatly-trimmed  grey  beard  very  thought 
fully. 

On  Wednesday,  a  little  before  noon,  Zoe  was  sitting 
in  her  window,  and  she  again  saw  Zeno  go  down  the 
steps  to  the  water  and  get  into  his  skiff.  It  was  always 
there  now,  even  at  dawn,  for  since  there  had  been  women 
in  the  house  Zeno  had  been  rowed  to  another  place  for 
his  morning  plunge  in  the  Golden  Horn.  To-day  he 
was  dressed  with  particular  care,  Zoe  thought,  as  she 
caught  sight  of  him,  and  she  did  not  draw  back  from 
the  window,  as  she  had  done  the  first  time,  but  stayed 
where  she  was,  and  she  wished  in  her  heart  that  he  would 
look  up  and  see  her.  He  did  not  even  turn  as  he  stepped 
into  the  boat,  and  she  thought  he  held  his  head  lower 
than  when  she  had  last  seen  him,  and  looked  down, 
and  raised  his  shoulders  a  little  like  a  person  determined 
not  to  look  to  the  right  or  the  left.  Then  the  two  men 
pulled  the  skiff  away  upstream,  and  she  watched  it  till 
she  could  no  longer  distinguish  it  from  many  others  that 


126  ABETHUSA  CHAP. 

moved  about  on  the  water  in  the  direction  of  the  palace. 
She  wondered  where  he  went. 

He  had  not  been  gone  ten  minutes  when  a  man  came 
to  the  gate  of  the  fore-court  on  the  other  side  of  the  house, 
and  asked  to  see  the  secretary.  He  was  simply  dressed 
in  a  clean  brown  woollen  tunic,  that  hung  almost  to 
the  ground.  It  had  wide  sleeves,  and  they  hid  his  joined 
hands  as  he  stood  waiting,  in  the  attitude  monks  often 
take  before  a  superior,  or  when  reciting  prayers  before 
meals.  But  the  man  was  not  a  monk,  for  he  wore  a 
broad  belt  of  dark  red  leather,  in  which  he  carried  a 
sheathed  knife,  a  Syrian  ink-horn,  and  a  small  cylindri 
cal  case  of  hammered  brass,  which  held  his  reed  pens. 
On  his  head  he  wore  a  tall  felt  cap,  such  as  dervishes 
now  wear. 

The  slave  at  the  door  looked  at  him  attentively  before 
admitting  him.  There  was  something  unusual  in  his 
expression,  though  his  features  were  not  very  marked, 
and  he  had  the  rather  pasty  complexion  that  is  so  com 
mon  in  the  East.  His  eyes  were  perhaps  a  little  longer 
and  more  almond-shaped  than  those  of  the  average 
Greek  or  Bokharian,  and  he  kept  them  half-closed.  His 
scanty  black  beard  had  a  few  grey  hairs  in  it.  His 
nostrils  curved  sharply,  but  the  nose  was  neither  very 
large  nor  markedly  aquiline.  A  commonplace  face 
enough  in  Constantinople;  but  there  was  something 
oddly  fixed  in  its  expression,  that  made  the  slave  feel 
uncomfortable  and  yet  submissive.  Many  persons  of 
all  conditions  came  to  the  merchant's  house  on  business 
during  the  day,  and  it  was  the  rule  to  send  them  to  Omo- 


VII 


AKETHUSA  127 


bono.  The  slave's  business  was  to  keep  out  thieves, 
beggars,  and  suspicious  characters;  he  stood  aside,  ad 
mitted  the  visitor  to  the  court  which  separated  the  house 
from  the  street,  and  shut  the  gate  again. 

One  of  the  free  house-servants,  of  whom  two  or  three 
were  always  waiting,  came  forward  —  a  square-shoul 
dered  Venetian  named  Vito,  who  had  been  a  sailor  and 
had  followed  Zeno  for  years.  He  enquired  the  stranger's 
name  and  business. 

'I  am  Gorlias  Pietrogliant,'  was  the  answer.  'My 
business  with  the  secretary  is  private.' 

The  serving-man  disappeared,  and  returned  a  moment 
later  to  conduct  the  visitor  to  the  private  room  of  the 
counting-house  on  the  ground  floor,  where  Omobono 
sat  behind  a  high  desk  covered  with  papers  and  slips  of 
parchment. 

Omobono  straightened  himself  on  his  stool  and  eyed 
the  newcomer  with  a  look  of  enquiry,  at  the  same  time 
drawing  from  his  right  arm  the  half  sleeve  of  grey  cotton 
which  he  always  put  on  when  he  was  going  to  write  long, 
lest  a  spot  of  ink  should  stain  the  soft  linen  wrist-band 
which  just  showed  below  the  tight  cuff  of  his  coat.  He 
was  a  careful  man.  He  looked  at  his  visitor  keenly, 
till  he  suddenly  became  aware  that  his  scrutiny  was  re 
turned  with  a  rather  disquieting  fixedness. 

'I  am  Gorlias  Pietrogliant/  said  the  stranger. 

Omobono  bent  his  head  politely,  and  wondered  whether 
he  should  be  able  to  repeat  such  an  outlandish  name. 

'I  am  Messer  Zeno's  secretary,'  he  answered.  'What 
is  your  business,  Master  Porlias  Dietroplant  ? ' 


128  AEETHUSA  CHAP. 

'Gorlias/  corrected  the  other,  quite  unmoved.  'Gor- 
lias  Pietrogliant.' 

'Master  Gorlias  —  I  beg  your  pardon.' 

'I  am  an  astrologer/  observed  the  visitor,  seating 
himself  on  a  high  stool  at  Omobono's  elbow,  and  relaps 
ing  into  silence. 

'You  are  an  astrologer/  said  the  secretary  tenta 
tively,  after  a  long  pause,  for  he  did  not  know  what  to 
say. 

'Yes,  I  told  you  so/  replied  Gorlias;  and  for  a  few 
seconds  longer  it  did  not  seem  to  occur  to  him  that  there 
was  anything  else  to  be  said. 

There  was  something  so  oddly  fixed  in  his  look  and  so 
dull  in  his  voice  that  Omobono  began  to  fear  that  he 
might  be  a  lunatic>  which  was  indeed,  in  the  secretary's 
opinion,  much  the  same  as  an  astrologer,  for  the  Venetians 
were  never  great  believers  in  the  influence  of  the  stars. 
But  the  visitor  soon  made  him  forget  his  suspicions  by 
reviving  his  curiosity. 

'  The  matter  which  brings  me  to  you  is  of  a  very  deli 
cate  nature/  said  Gorlias,  all  at  once  speaking  fluently 
and  in  a  low  voice.  'I  have  reason  to  believe  that  we 
are  interested  in  the  same  business.' 

'Are  we?'  asked  the  secretary  in  some  surprise. 

'  I  think  we  are.  I  think  we  are,  by  four  toes  and  by 
five  toes ! ' 

'Over  the  water/  answered  Omobono  promptly,  and 
hoping  to  learn  more. 

'Both  salt  and  fresh/  returned  Gorlias.  'By  these 
tokens  I  shall  trust  to  your  fidelity  and  discretion.' 


There  was  something  so  oddly  fixed  in  his  look  and  so  dull  in  his  voice  that 
Omobono  began  to  fear  that  lie  might  be  a  lunatic. 


VII 


ABETHTJSA  129 


'Implicitly/  replied  the  Venetian,  who  was  sure  of 
being  discreet,  but  wondered  what  the  matter  might  be 
to  which  his  fidelity  was  pledged  beforehand.  He 
inwardly  hoped  that  his  visitor  was  not  going  to  ask  him 
for  money,  for  he  suspected  that  some  awful  fate  must 
be  in  store  for  those  who  refused  a  service  when  appealed 
to  by  the  mysterious  passwords,  of  which  he  had  now 
learnt  one  more. 

'  Messer  Carlo  is  gone  out/  said  Gorlias.  '  By  this  time 
he  is  in  the  house  of  Messer  Sebastian  Polo,  who  wishes 
to  marry  him  to  his  daughter.  He  will  not  come  home 
till  after  dinner.' 

Omobono  stared  at  the  speaker. 

'You  know  more  than  I  do/  he  observed. 

'Of  course.  I  am  an  astrologer.  You  are  in  charge 
of  the  house  and  all  it  contains,  and  the  servants  and 
slaves  are  afraid  of  you  because  you  have  the  master's 
ear,  but  they  love  you  because  you  are  kind  to  them. 
Therefore,  whatever  you  do  is  right  in  their  eyes.  Up 
stairs  there  are  three  female  slaves;  one  is  Arethusa, 
the  other  two  are  called  Yulia  and  Lucilla,  and  wait  on 
her.  You  see,  I  know  everything.  Now,  for  the  sake 
of  that  business  in  which  we  are  both  interested,  you 
must  take  me  up  to  their  apartment,  for  I  must  speak 
with  the  one  called  Arethusa.' 

Omobono  wished  that  Gorlias  had  asked  him  for  his 
coat,  or  his  money,  or  anything  that  was  his,  rather  than 
for  such  a  favour;  and  he  was  about  to  risk  refusing 
it,  whatever  the  penalty  might  be,  when  a  luminous  idea 
revealed  itself  to  him. 


1 30  ARETHUSA  CHAP. 

'There  is  only  one  condition/  he  answered,  after  a 
moment's  thought.  'I  must  be  present  while  you  talk 
with  her.' 

'That  need  not  disturb  you/  said  Gorlias  calmly. 
'I  have  seen  the  room  where  she  is  by  virtue  of  my 
knowledge  of  the  stars.  It  has  a  small  covered  balcony 
with  an  outer  lattice  against  the  sun,  on  the  south  side. 
There  I  will  talk  with  Arethusa,  while  you  stand  by  the 
door  and  watch  us.  I  will  draw  figures,  and  appear  to 
explain  them  to  her,  so  that  the  two  girl-slaves  may 
think  that  I  have  come  to  amuse  her  by  setting  up  her 
horoscope.  Even  Messer  Carlo  could  not  object  to  that, 
and  Arethusa  can  veil  herself,  so  that  I  shall  not  be  able 
to  see  her  face/ 

Omobono  reflected  a  moment,  but  could  now  see  no 
good  reason  for  refusing  the  request,  whereas  he  saw 
a  prospect  of  learning  something  more  about  the  mystery 
that  interested  him.  Zoe  herself  had  prompted  him 
with  the  second  password  of  the  chain,  in  Rustan's 
house,  and  he  was  almost  sure  that  in  some  way  she 
knew  the  rest,  and  the  meaning  of  them  all. 

The  two  went  up  the  marble  stairs  to  the  second  story, 
and  Omobono  tapped  at  the  entrance  to  the  women's 
apartment.  There  came  a  little  pattering  of  slippered 
feet,  and  Lucilla  opened  the  door  just  enough  to  put 
her  head  out,  for  it  was  not  yet  time  for  the  mid-day 
meal,  and  she  wondered  what  was  wanted. 

'Bid  your  mistress  veil  herself,  my  child/  said  Omo 
bono.  '  Here  is  a  famous  astrologer  come  to  tell  her  the 
future,  which  will  help  her  to  pass  the  time.' 


VII 


ARETHUSA  131 


Lucilla  glanced  at  Gorlias  with  curiosity  and  smiled t 
showing  all  her  teeth. 

'  Indeed  it  is  very  dull  here/  she  observed,  and  dis 
appeared,  shutting  the  door  behind  her. 

While  the  two  men  waited  Gorlias  produced  from  the 
folds  of  his  wide  tunic  a  big  roll  of  parchment,  which  he 
unrolled  a  foot  or  two,  displaying  a  multitude  of  incom 
prehensible  signs  and  figures;  he  also  took  out  a  large 
brass  compass,  a  sheet  of  cotton  paper  from  Padua,  also 
rolled  up,  and  an  Arabic  almanack  with  a  silver  clasp. 
Omobono  surveyed  these  preparations  with  mingled 
cui'^sity  and  sceptical  amusement,  till  Lucilla  opened 
the  doer  again  and  ushered  both  men  into  Zoe's  presence. 
The  astrologer  made  cabalistic  signs  with  his  right  hand 
while  he  advanced,  as  if  he  were  drawing  imaginary  figures 
in  the  air  with  his  extended  forefinger.  Zoe's  face  was 
quite  concealed  in  the  double  folds  of  a  white  gauze  veil, 
but  she  seemed  to  watch  him  attentively  as  he  came 
towards  her. 


CHAPTER   VIII 

ZOE  and  the  astrologer  sat  in  the  covered  balcony  in 
full  view  of  the  secretary,  who  remained  near  the  door, 
straining  his  sharp  ears  in  vain  to  catch  some  words 
of  the  whispered  conversation.  The  maids  had  been 
dismissed.  From  time  to  time  Gorlias  spoke  aloud, 
pointing  with  his  compass  to  different  parts  of  the  figure, 
but  what  he  said  only  made  it  more  impossible  t:;  guess 
at  what  he  whispered.  Zoe  sat  almost  motionless,  but 
she  had  opened  the  folds  of  her  veil  so  as  to  uncover 
her  mouth,  and  after  her  companion  had  been  speaking 
some  time  she  bent  down  and  answered  in  his  ear,  pre 
tending,  however,  to  point  to  the  figures  on  the  paper, 
as  if  she  were  asking  questions. 

The  substance  of  what  Gorlias  told  her  was  that  he 
and  his  friends  were  interested  in  a  mighty  enterprise, 
and  had  often  tried  to  sound  Carlo  Zeno  with  regard  to 
helping  them  to  carry  it  out,  but  they  had  met  with  no 
success,  for  he  either  did  not  understand,  or  he  would  not. 
Messer  Sebastian  Polo,  whose  house  he  frequented,  was 
a  timid  man,  and  was  not  to  be  trusted  with  such  a 
secret;  moreover,  he  was  so  extremely  anxious  to  make 
Zeno  marry  his  daughter,  that  he  would  certainly  never 
allow  him  to  run  any  risks. 

All  this  he  put  very  clearly,  and  Omobono  might  have 

132 


CHAP.  VIII 


ABETHUSA  133 


been  surprised  to  learn  that  he  had  not  used  any  pass 
word.  Then  Zoe  bent  down  to  his  ear. 

'What  is  the  name  of  Sebastian  Polo's  daughter?' 
she  asked. 

'Giustina/  whispered  the  astrologer.  'The  sun  near 
to  mid-heaven/  he  continued  aloud,  'and  in  trine  aspect 
to  Mars,  signifies  fine  horses  and  a  retinue  of  servants.' 
He  dropped  his  voice  again.  '  She  is  thirty,  and  has  had 
the  smallpox,'  he  whispered. 

'The  master  has  only  been  here  once  since  I  came/ 
said  Zoe,  bending  to  his  ear  again.  'I  have  no  influence 
with  him.' 

Gorlias  turned  his  face  towards  her  in  slow  surprise. 

'Had  he  not  seen  you  before  he  bought  you,  Kokona 
Arethusa?'  he  enquired. 

'Yes,  indeed!' 

'  Oh !  I  thought  that  you  also  might  have  had  the  small 
pox,'  was  the  whispered  answer. 

Zoe  could  not  help  laughing  a  little.  The  pretty  notes, 
muffled  by  the  veil,  seemed  to  come  from  far  away.  It 
was  the  first  time  she  had  laughed  naturally  since  many 
weeks.  The  astrologer  bent  nearer  to  her  when  she  was 
silent  again,  and  spoke  aloud,  pointing  to  his  figure. 

'  Venus  is  in  the  Seventh  House  in  benign  aspect  to  the 
Moon/  he  said  aloud.  'You  will  be  fortunate  in  love.' 
Then  he  whispered  again,  '  I  will  give  you  a  philtre  that 
has  never  failed.  The  next  time  he  comes ' 

Zoe  shook  her  head  decidedly,  with  something  that 
looked  like  indignation. 

'It  is  for  a  good  matter,  Kokona/  Gorlias  answered. 


134  ARETHUSA  CHAP. 

'  If  you  will  help  us,  you  shall  have  pearls  and  diamonds, 
and  gold  and  liberty.' 

'  Liberty?    How?' 

Gorlias  thought  that  he  had  tempted  her  with  that, 
at  least. 

'If  you  will  promise  your  help  with  Messer  Carlo,  I 
will  tell  you.' 

1  How  can  I  promise  what  is  not  mine  to  give  ? '  asked 
the  girl. 

The  astrologer  was  not  discouraged,  and  after  more 
talk  about  the  planets,  in  a  tone  loud  enough  to  be  heard 
by  the  maids  if  they  were  listening  at  the  door,  he  went 
on  quickly  again. 

'  Messer  Carlo  is  a  man  who  loves  adventures,  who  has 
led  desperate  and  forlorn  hope  to  victory,  both  in  Italy 
and  Greece,  who  has  the  gift  of  the  leader,  if  ever  a  man 
had  it.  Surely,  you  knew  all  this.' 

'I  know  he  has  been  a  soldier,'  Zoe  answered,  for  Zeno 
had  told  her  so. 

'He  also  possesses  some  fortune,  and  has  great  con 
nexions  in  Venice.  Moreover,  I  can  tell  you,  Kokona, 
that  this  is  no  small  matter.  If  he  succeeds,  he  will 
earn  gratitude  of  the  Serene  Republic  and  honour  every 
where.' 

'As  much  as  that?'  asked  Zoe,  looking  attentively 
at  the  astrologer  through  her  veil.  '  How  am  I  to  believe 
you?' 

'I  thought  I  had  spoken  clearly  enough,'  Gorlias  an 
swered,  'but  lest  you  should  doubt  my  word  and  prom 
ise,  take  these.' 


vin  ARETHTJSA  135 

He  had  furtively  slipped  his  hand  into  the  bosom  of 
his  tunic,  and  when  he  withdrew  it  his  fingers  closed  over 
something  he  held  gathered  in  his  palm.  Cleverly 
turning  the  sheet  of  paper  on  which  he  had  shown  his 
astrological  figures,  so  as  to  hinder  Omobono  from  seeing, 
he  disclosed  to  Zoe  a  short  string  of  very  large  and  beau 
tiful  pearls. 

'In  your  nativity,'  he  rattled  on,  aloud,  '  the  beneficent 
influences  altogether  outweigh  the  malefic  ones.' 

He  said  much  more  to  the  same  effect,  and  while  he 
was  speaking  he  let  the  pearls  slip  down  upon  the  skirts 
of  Zoe's  over-garment  on  the  side  away  from  the  secre 
tary. 

'They  are  yours/  he  whispered.  'You  shall  have  a 
hundred  strings  like  them  if  you  succeed.' 

'Give  such  things  to  my  maids,'  Zoe  answered,  'not 
to  me !  If  you  are  in  earnest  make  a  sign,  that  I  may  know 
whence  you  come.' 

'A  sign?'  repeated  Gorlias,  as  if  not  understanding. 

'Yes,  where?'  Her  mouth  was  close  to  his  ear  as 
she  whispered  the  question,  and  she  turned  her  ear  to 
wards  him  for  the  answer. 

He  hesitated,  and  for  the  first  time  the  dull  fixedness 
of  his  expression  was  momentarily  dispelled  by  a  very 
faint  look  of  surprise. 

'I  ask,  where?'  Zoe  repeated,  with  strong  emphasis, 
bending  to  him  again. 

'Over  the  water,'  he  answered  at  last. 

'  Both  salt  and  fresh,'  she  replied  instantly. 

Gorlias  looked  at  her  veiled  face  long. 


136  ARETHUSA  CHAP. 

'Who  are  you?'  he  asked  at  length.  'Who  taught 
you  these  things?'  He  glanced  suspiciously  at  Omo 
bono,  who,  as  he  had  reason  to  believe,  was  acquainted 
with  the  secret. 

Zoe  shook  her  head. 

'No,'  she  answered.  'One  greater  than  he  taught 
me  what  I  know.  You  may  go  now,  for  your  message 
is  delivered.  What  I  can  do,  I  will  do,  and  there  is  no 
more  to  say,  for  it  is  my  own  cause  as  well  as  his  —  the 
cause  of  justice,  and  God  is  with  it.' 

Gorlias  spoke  aloud  again,  and  brought  his  explana 
tion  of  the  horoscope  to  a  conclusion  by  informing  Zoe 
that  if  she  wished  to  know  the  smaller  details  of  her 
wonderful  future,  she  must  consult  him  at  intervals, 
as  the  phases  of  the  moon  had  a  great  influence  on  her 
fate. 

'When  the  Kokona  wishes  to  see  me,'  he  said,  rising, 
'Messer  Omobono  will  send  for  me,  and  I  will  come.' 

Before  Zoe  realised  that  he  had  not  picked  up  the  string 
of  pearls,  he  had  made  his  obeisance  and  was  at  the  door 
with  Omobono,  who  bowed  low  to  her,  and  ushered  him 
out. 

When  she  was  alone  she  took  the  necklace  from  the 
folds  of  her  dress,  where  it  had  lain,  and  looked  at  it  a 
moment  before  she  hid  it  in  her  bosom.  For  she  would 
not  allow  the  maids  to  see  it,  and  was  already  debating 
how  she  should  hide  it  till  she  could  find  an  opportunity 
of  giving  it  back.  But  when  the  cold  pearls  touched  her 
flesh  they  sent  a  little  chill  to  her  heart,  and  she  thought 
it  was  somehow  like  a  warning. 


vin  ARETHUSA  137 

She  understood  well  enough  what  had  happened,  for 
she  was  quick-witted.  Rustan,  who  had  shown  that  he 
knew  the  secret,  and  his  wife,  who  had  spoken  to  him  of 
Gorlias,  had  told  the  latter  that  Carlo  Zeno  was  in  love 
with  a  beautiful  Greek  slave,  who  could,  of  course,  be 
easily  induced  by  gifts  to  use  her  influence  with  her 
master.  For  Zeno's  past  deeds  had  already  woven  a  sort 
of  legend  about  his  name,  so  that  even  the  soldiers  talked 
of  him  among  themselves,  and  told  stories  of  the  des 
perate  bravery  and  amazing  skill  with  which  he  had 
kept  a  small  Turkish  army  at  bay  in  Greece  with  a  hand 
ful  of  men  for  nearly  a  whole  year,  and  many  other 
tales,  of  which  the  most  fantastic  was  less  strange  than 
much  that  afterwards  happened  to  him  in  his  life. 

It  must  have  seemed  easy  enough  to  the  astrologer, 
and  even  to  Omobono  perhaps;  but  it  looked  strangely 
impossible  to  Zoe  herself,  when  she  remembered  her  only 
interview  with  the  man  whom  she  was  now  pledged  to 
win  over. 

The  whole  situation  was  known  to  her.  A  conspiracy 
was  on  foot  to  take  the  Emperor  Johannes  from  his 
prison  and  restore  him  to  the  throne,  imprisoning  his 
son  Andronicus  in  the  Amena  tower  in  his  stead.  Thou 
sands  of  John's  loyal  subjects  recognised  each  other  by 
passwords,  and  talked  secretly  of  a  great  rising,  in  which 
some  foresaw  vengeance  for  the  wrongs  they  had  suffered, 
while  others,  like  the  Bokharian  Rustan,  hoped  for  for 
tune,  reward,  and  perhaps  honour.  But  the  body  of 
the  army  was  not  with  them  yet,  the  disaffected  men 
lacked  skill  or  courage  to  preach  the  cause  of  the  lawful 


138  ARETHUSA  CHAP. 

Emperor  to  their  comrades,  and  the  revolution  had  no 
guiding  spirit.  It  is  far  easier  to  choose  a  general  among 
soldiers  than  to  pick  out  a  leader  of  revolt  amongst 
untried  and  untrained  men. 

Before  he  lost  his  liberty  the  Emperor  had  known 
Zeno,  and  though  a  weak  man,  had  judged  him  rightly. 
In  his  prison  he  possessed  means  of  communicating 
occasionally  with  his  friends,  and  he  had  instructed 
them  to  ask  Zeno's  help;  but  so  far  his  message 
had  either  not  been  delivered  or  Zeno  had  been  deaf  to 
the  appeal,  perhaps  judging  that  the  time  was  not  come 
for  the  attempt,  or  that,  after  all,  the  cause  was  not  a 
good  one.  Having  failed  to  move  him  in  all  other  ways, 
the  revolutionaries  had  seized  the  unexpected  oppor 
tunity  that  now  presented  itself. 

The  thought  that  such  a  man  might  turn  the  tide  of 
history,  restore  the  rightful  sovereign  to  the  throne, 
and  avenge  the  awful  death  of  Michael  Rhangabe,  had 
crossed  Zoe's  mind  when  she  had  first  seen  her  purchaser 
in  Rustan's  house,  for  the  born  leader  and  fighting  man 
generally  has  something  in  his  face  that  is  not  to  be  mis 
taken;  but  to  influence  Carlo  was  another  matter,  as 
she  had  understood  when  he  had  supped  with  her.  It 
would  be  as  hard  to  induce  him  to  do  anything  he  was 
not  inclined  to  do  of  his  own  accord  as  it  would  be  impos 
sible  to  hinder  him  from  attempting  whatever  he  chose 
to  try.  As  for  winning  him  to  the  cause  by  gentler 
means,  the  high-born  girl  blushed  at  the  suggestion. 
He  was  certainly  not  in  love  with  her  at  first  sight ;  of 
that  she  was  as  sure  as  that  she  did  not  love  him  either. 


VIII 


AKETHUSA  139 


Yet  while  she  was  thinking,  she  suddenly  wondered 
whether  Gorlias  had  spoken  the  truth  about  Giustina 
Polo.  Was  she  really  thirty,  and  was  her  face  pitted 
like  a  cheese-grater,  as  Gorlias  had  told  her?  If  she 
was  ugly,  why  did  Zeno  go  to  Polo's  house  so  often? 
For  Zoe  had  no  doubt  but  that  he  went  there  every  time 
he  was  rowed  up  the  Golden  Horn  in  his  pretty  skiff. 
He  was  always  carefully  dressed  when  he  stepped  into 
his  boat ;  it  was  not  for  old  Polo  that  he  wore  such  fine 
clothes. 

She  was  very  lonely  now.  During  the  first  two  days 
she  had  rested  herself  in  her  luxurious  surroundings, 
not  without  the  excitement  of  expecting  another  visit 
from  Zeno,  and  she  had  thought  with  satisfaction  of 
all  the  comfort  her  sacrifice  must  have  brought  to  her 
adopted  mother,  to  the  little  boys,  and  to  poor  old  Nec- 
taria.  But  now  she  wished  she  could  at  least  be  sure  that 
all  was  well  with  them,  though  she  was  rather  sadly 
conscious  that  she  did  not  miss  them  as  she  had  thought 
she  must.  During  many  months  she  had  nursed  Kyria 
Agatha  most  tenderly,  and  had  helped  the  old  slave  to 
take  care  of  the  children ;  the  last  weeks  had  been  spent 
in  abject  misery,  the  last  days  in  the  final  struggle  with 
starvation  and  sickness,  and  still  she  had  bravely  done 
her  best.  Yet  she  had  long  felt  that  Kyria  Agatha 
had  not  much  real  affection  for  her,  and  would  let  her 
starve  herself  to  death  to  feed  her  and  the  boys.  It 
would  have  been  otherwise  if  Rhangabe  had  lived; 
she  would  have  willingly  died  of  hunger  for  him,  but  he 
was  gone,  and  though  she  had  done  and  borne  the 


140  ABETHTJSA  CHAP. 

impossible,  it  had  not  been' for  her  own  blood,  but  for  the 
sake  of  the  good  and  brave  man's  memory.  He  was  in 
peace,  after  the  agony  of  his  death,  his.  wife  and  his  sons 
were  provided  for,  so  far  as  Zoe  could  provide  by  giving 
her  freedom  and  her  life  for  them.  As  far  as  she  could 
she  had  paid  her  debt  of  gratitude  to  the  dead,  and  the 
debt  that  was  not  wiped  out  was  due  to  her ;  those  who 
had  murdered  Rhangabe  owed  her  his  unspeakable 
sufferings  and  every  precious  drop  of  his  heart's  blood. 
They  should  pay.  If  she  lived,  they  should  pay  all  to 
the  uttermost. 

And  now,  fate  had  placed  within  her  reach  the  instru 
ment  of  vengeance,  the  bravest,  rashest,  wisest,  most 
desperate  of  mankind.  Her  heart  had  silently  and  joy 
fully  drunk  in  every  word  that  Gorlias  had  said  about  the 
man  who  owned  her  as  he  owned  the  carpet  under  her  feet, 
the  roof  over  her  head,  and  the  clothes  that  covered  her. 

He  was  within  her  reach,  but  he  was  not  within  her 
power.  Not  yet.  Her  mood  had  changed,  and  for  a 
while,  not  knowing  what  she  dreamt  of,  she  wished  that 
she  were  indeed  one  of  those  Eastern  enchantresses  of 
whom  she  had  often  heard,  without  half  understanding, 
who  roused  men  to  frenzy,  or  lulled  their  lovers  to  sleep 
and  ruin,  as  they  would;  she  wished  she  were  that 
wicked  Antonina,  for  whom  brave,  pure-hearted  Beli- 
sarius  had  humbled  himself  in  the  dust ;  she  wished  she 
were  Theodora,  shamelessly  great  and  fair,  an  imperial 
Vision  of  Sin,  compelling  to  her  heel  the  church-going, 
priest-haunted  master  of  half  the  known  world  —  Jus 
tinian.  She  knew  the  story  of  her  adopted  country. 


vin  AKETHTTSA  141 

What  had  either  of  those  women  that  she  had  not, 
wherewith  to  master  a  man? 

Then  the  tide  of  shame  came  back,  and  she  turned  her 
face  away  from  the  empty  room,  as  if  it  had  guessed 
her  thoughts;  and  then,  to  get  away  from  them,  she 
called  her  maids,  clapping  her  hands  sharply.  They 
came  running  in  and  stood  before  her. 

'Go,  Yulia,'  she  said,  'find  the  secretary  and  beg  him 
to  come  to  me.' 

While  she  waited,  she  made  Lucilla  arrange  her  veil 
again  so  that  it  hid  her  face,  and  this  was  scarcely  done 
when  Omobono  was  ushered  in  by  the  other  girl.  He 
bowed  to  Zoe  and  gravely  stroked  his  pointed  beard. 

'What  is  the  Kokona's  pleasure?'  he  asked,  after  a 
pause. 

'  Do  you  speak  Latin  ?'  Zoe  enquired,  in  that  language. 

The  little  man  drew  himself  up  proudly,  and  cleared 
his  throat. 

'In  my  family  we  have  been  notaries  for  five  genera 
tions/  he  answered,  in  language  that  was  comprehen 
sible  but  would  have  filled  an  average  Churchman  with 
vague  uneasiness,  and  would  have  made  Cicero's  ashes 
rattle  in  their  urn. 

Zoe  was  satisfied,  however,  for  though  her  maids 
might  understand  Italian,  she  was  quite  sure  that  Latin 
was  beyond  them.  She  herself  spoke  it  far  more  cor 
rectly  than  Omobono,  though  with  a  rather  lisping 
Greek  accent.  She  could  not  have  helped  saying '  vonus ' 
for  'bonus,'  'eyo'  for  'ego,'  and  'Thominus'  for  'Domi- 
nus.' 


142  ARETHUSA  CHAP. 

'Where  is  Thominus  Caroms?'  she  enquired,  so  sud 
denly  that  the  secretary  was  almost  taken  off  his  guard. 

'He  is  —  he  is  gone  out/  he  answered. 

'Yes.  He  is  gone  to  dine  with  Messer  Sebastian  Polo. 
He  goes  there  two  or  three  times  a  week.' 

Zoe  watched  the  secretary's  face  with  amusement; 
his  surprise  was  comical. 

'Then  the  man  is  really  an  astrologer/  he  said,  in  a 
wondering  tone,  '  and  star-gazing  is  not  all  nonsense ! ' 

'Sebastian  Polo's  daughter  is  young  and  beautiful/ 
observed  Zoe,  who  apparently  did  not  place  implicit 
faith  in  astrology. 

Omobono's  face  and  gesture  expressed  a  qualified 
assent,  but  he  said  nothing. 

'Tell  me  at  once/  said  Zoe,  'that  she  is  thirty,  that  her 
complexion  resembles  the  dust  when  it  is  pitted  by 
raindrops  after  a  shower ' 

'That  would  not  be  true/  cried  the  secretary.  'Gius- 
tina  Polo  is  not  supremely  beautiful,  but  she  is  young 
and  pretty,  and  as  fresh  as  roses.' 

'But  she  is  very  poor/  suggested  Zoe.  'She  has  no 
dowry.' 

'Who  says  so?'  asked  Omobono  indignantly.  'The 
house  of  Sebastian  Polo  is  as  prosperous  as  any  in  Con 
stantinople  !  He  is  as  rich  as  any  Venetian  here  except, 
perhaps,  Marin  Corner!' 

'Then  it  is  true  that  the  master  is  going  to  marry  his 
daughter/  Zoe  replied,  as  if  stating  a  fact  that  could  no 
longer  be  denied. 

She  was  rapidly  working  the  secretary  into  a  state 


viii  AKETHUSA  143 

of  excitement  in  which  his  Latin  grammar  went  to  the 
winds. 

'No,  indeed !'  he  cried.  'It  is  altogether  a  lie !  Who 
has  told  you  such  things  ?' 

'She  is  young,  pretty,  fresh  as  roses,  and  very  rich/ 
said  Zoe,  recapitulating.  'Did  you  not  say  so?' 

'Yes ' 

'And  the  master  goes  to  dine  in  her  father's  house 
three  times  a  week ' 

'Perhaps ' 

'Do  you  suppose  that  Polo  would  invite  the  master 
so  often  unless  he  wanted  him  for  his  daughter  ? ' 

'  Perhaps  not ' 

'Or  that  the  master  would  wilfully  deceive  Polo  and 
the  girl?' 

'What  are  you  saying?' 

'Simply  that  Thominus  Carolus  is  going  to  marry 
Thomna  Justina.' 

'But  I  tell  you ' 

'Either  you  are  very  simple,  or  you  think  I  am/  inter 
rupted  Zoe,  with  crushing  logic.  '  Which  shall  it  be, 
Master  Secretary  ? ' 

Omobono  thought  her  a  terrible  young  person  just 
then.  He  spread  out  his  hands  and  looked  up  to  the 
ceiling  in  despair,  but  still  protesting. 

'And  meanwhile/  she  continued, '  what  is  the  master  go 
ing  to  do  with  me  ?  Am  I  to  be  locked  up  here  for  ever  ?  ' 

If  anything  could  further  disturb  Omobono 's  equa 
nimity  it  was  this  question.  His  gentle  temper  was 
beginning  to  be  ruffled. 


144  ARETHUSA  CHAP. 

'How  can  I  tell?'  he  asked.  'He  will  do  what  he 
thinks  best !  Ask  him  yourself ! ' 

After  all,  she  was  only  a  slave,  he  said  in  his  heart, 
and  he  was  the  descendant  of  five  generations  of  notaries. 
What  right  had  she  to  cross-examine  him  ?  He  was  the 
more  angry  with  her  for  asking  the  question,  because  his 
own  curiosity  had  tormented  him  for  days  to  find  an 
answer  to  it. 

'Omobono,'  Zoe  said,  affecting  a  very  grave  tone,  'you 
know  very  well  what  the  master  means  to  do.  Now  I 
ask  you  solemnly,  and  you  are  warned  that  you  must 
answer  me  —  by  four ' 

1  No,  no ! '  cried  the  secretary,  in  sudden  distress. 
'  Do  not  ask  me  by  that ! ' 

'  I  must,  Omobono ;  and  of  course  you  have  been  told 
what  you  have  to  expect  if  you  refuse  to  help  a  friend 
over  the  water.' 

She  emphasised  the  last  words  in  a  way  that  made 
him  tremble. 

'Yes,  yes  —  I  know '  he  said  feebly,  though  he 

had  not  the  least  notion  of  the  penalty. 

'You  will  be  broken  to  pieces  by  inches  with  a  small 
hammer,  beginning  at  the  tips  of  your  fingers  till  there 
is  not  a  whole  bone  in  your  body.  That  is  only  the  be 
ginning.' 

Omobono's  knees  knocked  together. 

'Then  your  skin  will  be  turned  inside  out  over  your 
head  and  your  living  heart  will  be  cut  out  of  your  body, 
Omobono,  and  you  will  die.' 

The  secretary  had  already  such  belief  in  the  power  of 


VIII 


ARETHUSA  145 


those  who  knew  the  magic  words  that  he  turned  pale 
and  the  cold  sweat  stood  on  his  forehead. 

'If  all  this  were  to  be  done  to  me  now/  he  faltered,  'I 
could  not  tell  you  what  the  master  intends  !J 

She  saw  that  it  was  the  truth. 

'Very  well/  she  said;  ' then  you  must  manage  that  he 
shall  come  here  to-day  as  soon  as  he  returns  from  Polo's 
house.' 

'I  will  tell  him  that  you  have  asked  to  see  him ' 

'No.  Tell  him  that  I  shall  fall  ill  if  I  am  shut  up  in 
these  rooms  any  longer,  and  that  if  he  does  not  believe 
it,  he  had  better  come  and  see  how  I  am.  He  will 
probably  take  your  advice.  I  do  not  choose  to  show  you 
my  face,  but  I  assure  you  I  am  very  pale,  and  I  have 
no  appetite.' 

'He  will  come/  said  the  secretary  confidently. 

'You  can  also  do  me  another  service,  Omobono/ 
continued  Zoe.  'I  have  learned  that  last  Friday,  when 
you  went  to  find  Rustan  about  buying  me,  you  came  upon 
him  in  the  beggars'  quarter,  near  the  church  of  Saint 
Sergius  and  Saint  Bacchus,  at  a  house  where  some  very 
poor  people  lived.  This  is  true,  is  it  not?' 

Omobono  nodded,  wondering  how  she  knew  of  the 
circumstance. 

'A  poor  woman  lay  there  ill,  with  children  and  a  very 
old  nurse,  and  Rustan  gave  them  something.  I  wish  to 
know  how  these  poor  people  are,  and  where  they  live, 
if  they  have  left  that  house.  I  am  sure  the  master  is 
charitable,  and  will  let  you  give  them  something  if 
they  are  still  in  need.  There  were  two  little  boys,  and 


146  ABETHUSA 


CHAP. 


there  was  a  grown  girl  besides  the  sick  woman  and  the 
other/ 

'  You  know  every  thing  !'  cried  Omobono.  '  The  man 
must  be  a  great  astrologer !  I  will  go  myself  to  the  beg 
gars'  quarter  and  do  your  bidding.' 

Zoe  had  played  her  little  comedy  because  she  had  by 
this  time  guessed  the  man's  character,  and  wished  to 
make  sure  that  she  could  rely  on  his  help  in  anything  she 
decided  to  do;  for  it  was  clear  that  whenever  Zeno  was 
absent,  the  secretary  was  in  charge  of  the  whole  estab 
lishment,  and  the  servants  would  obey  him  without  hesi 
tation.  As  Gorlias  had  told  him,  whatever  he  did  was 
right  in  their  eyes. 

That  he  was  in  haste  to  do  her  bidding  she  discovered 
before  the  afternoon  was  half  over,  for  as  she  sat  in  her 
window  she  saw  him  go  down  to  wait  for  his  master  at  the 
marble  steps,  and  he  walked  slowly  on  the  strip  of  black 
and  white  pavement  by  the  water's  edge. 

At  last  he  stood  still,  and  looked  towards  Blachernse, 
for  the  skiff  was  in  sight.  Zoe  drew  her  veil  across  her 
face  and  rested  her  head  against  the  right-hand  side  of  the 
open  window  as  if  she  were  very  tired,  and  she  did  not 
move  from  this  position  as  the  boat  came  near.  Zeno 
was  leaning  back  in  the  stern,  and  could  not  help  seeing 
her  as  he  approached  the  house,  but  from  her  attitude  he 
thought  she  did  not  see  him,  and  he  looked  up  at  her 
steadily  for  two  or  three  seconds.  She  was  quite  motion 
less. 

Omobono  stood  by  the  water's  edge  as  Zeno  stepped 
ashore,  and  asked  permission  to  say  a  few  words  to  him 
at  once.  Zeno  dismissed  the  boat  by  a  gesture. 


vin  ARETHUSA  147 

'Has  anything  happened?'  he  asked,  glancing  up  at 
the  window  again. 

Zoe  had  not  moved,  but  she  could  see  him  through  her 
veil.  Then  the  two  men  walked  up  and  down,  while 
Omobono  spoke  in  a  low  tone,  but  though  she  could  not 
hear  the  words  she  knew  what  the  substance  was.  Then 
came  Zeno's  voice,  cold  and  clear. 

' Certainly  not,'  he  said  decidedly.  'I  shall  do  nothing 
of  the  sort !  If  she  has  no  appetite  send  for  a  doctor. 
Do  you  take  me  for  one?  Send  for  old  Solomon  the 
Jewish  physician.  He  is  the  best,  and  he  is  an  old  man. 
If  he  says  the  girl  needs  air,  take  her  out  in  the  boat,  her 
and  the  maids,  on  fine  mornings.' 

A  question  from  Omobono  followed,  which  Zoe  could 
not  hear  distinctly.  Zeno  was  evidently  annoyed. 

1  Omobono,  you  are  a  good  man,'  he  said;  'but  you 
have  no  more  sense  than  a  cackling  hen !  Never  think ! 
It  is  not  your  strong  point.  When  you  do  just  what  I 
tell  you,  you  never  make  a  mistake.' 

The  secretary's  voice  was  heard  again,  low  and  in 
distinct. 

'No,'  answered  Zeno.  'You  need  not  go  and  tell  her 
what  I  have  said,  for  she  has  probably  heard  every  word 
of  it  herself,  from  the  window.  It  is  useless  ever  to  tell 
women  anything.  They  always  know  before  they  are 
told.' 

Thereupon  Zeno  went  in,  apparently  in  a  bad  temper. 
If  anything  can  make  a  woman  angry  when  she  is  over 
hearing  a  conversation  about  herself,  it  is  to  hear  it 
said  that  she  is  undoubtedly  listening.  Zoe  had  not 


148  ARETHUSA 


CHAP. 


hidden  herself,  and  Zeno  must  have  meant  her  to  hear 
what  he  was  saying,  but  she  felt  the  more  deeply  insulted. 
Her  cheek  burned,  and  she  drew  back  her  veil  to  feel  the 
cool  air.  So  he  had  no  intention  of  coming  to  see  her 
again !  A  Jewish  doctor  and  an  airing  in  the  boat,  with 
Omobono  for  company !  And  she  had  been  told  that  she 
had  been  listening  —  it  was  not  to  be  borne !  She  threw 
her  veil  on  one  side,  her  silk  shawl  on  the  other,  and  then 
walked  up  and  down  the  long  room  with  restless  steps, 
like  a  young  wild  animal  in  a  cage. 

The  little  maids  picked  up  the  things  and  watched  her 
uneasily,  for  she  had  always  seemed  very  gentle.  They 
looked  at  her  with  wide  eyes  now,  and  their  gaze  irritated 
her,  till  she  felt  that  she  wanted  to  box  their  ears,  and 
wished  she  had  the  negress's  whip  in  her  belt.  Then, 
without  any  apparent  reason,  she  threw  her  arms  round 
the  one  that  stood  nearest  and  kissed  the  astonished  girl 
a  dozen  times,  almost  lifting  her  from  the  floor.  As  she 
let  her  go,  she  laughed  nervously  at  herself. 

She  was  thirsty,  and  she  drank  off  a  tall  glass  of  cold 
water  at  a  draught;  and  all  the  time  she  was  uncon 
sciously  repeating  one  phrase  to  herself. 

'He  shall  pay  me  for  this,  he  shall  pay  me  for 
this!' 

The  words  rang  in  her  ears,  to  a  sort  of  silly  tune  that 
would  not  go  away.  There  is  a  vile  natural  hurdy- 
gurdy  somewhere  in  our  brains,  and  when  we  are  angry, 
or  in  love,  or  broken-hearted,  or  otherwise  beside  our 
selves,  it  plays  its  absurd  little  tunes  at  us  till  we  are  ready 
to  go  mad.  I  sometimes  think  that  devil's  music  may 


vni  ARETHUSA  149 

have  brought  on  the  final  fatal  irritation  against  life, 
that  has  decided  the  fate  of  many  half-mad  suicides. 

'  He  shall  pay  me  for  this ! '  She  heard  the  words  keep 
ing  time  with  her  movements ;  she  walked  slower  — 
faster,  but  it  made  no  difference,  for  the  infernal  little 
notes  took  the  beat  from  her  steps. 

She  had  not  the  least  notion  how  Zeno  was  to  pay  for 
having  made  her  so  very  angry,  and  that  question  did  not 
obtrude  itself  on  her  thoughts  till  her  temper  was  be 
ginning  to  subside;  then  she  suddenly  felt  how  utterly 
helpless  she  was,  and  her  wrath  boiled  up  again.  The 
only  way  of  paying  him  out  that  suggested  itself  was  to 
throw  herself  out  of  the  window.  Then  he  would  be 
sorry  for  what  he  had  done. 

Would  he?  He  would  probably  send  Omobono  to 
have  her  corpse  taken  away  as  quickly  as  possible.  And 
the  day  after  to-morrow  he  would  go  again  to  see  Gius- 
tina  Polo  in  her  father's  house,  and  she  would  have 
thrown  herself  out  of  the  window  for  nothing.  Besides, 
it  would  be  wicked. 

She  realised  how  childish  her  thoughts  were,  and  she 
sat  down  to  think  —  '  like  a  grown-up  woman/  she  said  to 
herself.  But  just  then  she  remembered  Zeno's  words  to 
Omobono.  '  Never  think,  for  it  is  not  your  strong  point/ 
he  had  said  to  his  secretary ;  but  he  had  of  course  meant 
it  for  her.  Everything  had  been  meant  for  her.  She 
wished  she  could  hold  his  brown  throat  in  her  hands  and 
dig  her  little  nails  into  it. 

Appetite,  indeed !  Was  it  strange  that  she  should  not 
be  hungry  ?  How  could  any  one  eat  who  lived  such  a  life, 


150  AEETHUSA  CHAP. 

shut  up  between  four  walls  ?  —  with  a  tyrant  downstairs 
who  did  not  even  take  the  trouble  to  come  and  look  at 
her,  but  sent  his  silly  old  clerk  to  keep  her  company! 
He  took  trouble  enough  to  go  and  see  Giustina  Polo ! 

This  was  thinking  'like  a  grown-up  woman/  as  she 
had  proposed  to  do !  She  was  disgusted  with  herself, 
and  looked  about  for  something  to  occupy  her  thoughts. 
There  were  sweetmeats,  whole  boxes  of  sweetmeats  of 
every  sort.  Twice  already  they  had  been  emptied  and 
refilled  with  fresh  ones,  since  she  had  been  brought  to  the 
house.  That  was  Zeno's  idea  of  what  a  woman  needed 
to  occupy  her  thoughts  and  be  happy!  Sweetmeats! 
Preserve  of  rose-leaves !  Figs  in  syrup !  That  was  all 
he  knew  of  her  wants ! 

She  lay  back  among  her  cushions,  her  brown  eyes 
gleamed  angrily,  her  lips  were  a  little  parted,  and  her 
nostrils  quivered  now  and  then  as  she  drew  a  sharp 
breath.  Presently,  she  called  Yulia  to  her  side. 

'Go  to  the  secretary,'  she  said,  'and  tell  him  to  send 
me  a  book.' 

'A  book?'  repeated  the  slave  stupidly,  for  she  had 
never  seen  a  woman  who  could  read. 

'Yes.  A  book  in  Greek,  Latin,  or  Italian ;  it  does  not 
matter  which.  I  am  sick  of  doing  nothing.  Tell  him 
to  be  quick,  too,'  she  added,  in  a  tone  of  authority. 

The  girl  tripped  away  and  found  Omobono  in  the 
counting-house  on  the  ground  floor.  He  was  in  a  bad 
humour  too,  but  in  his  case  it  took  the  form  of  dignified 
sorrow.  His  master  had  compared  him  to  a  fowl,  and 
to  one  that  cackled. 


vni  ARETHUSA  151 

'What  does  she  want  with  a  book?'  he  asked,  in  a 
dreary  tone,  looking  up  from  his  accounts. 

'To  read,  I  think,  sir/  answered  the  little  maid  timidly; 
'and  she  told  me  to  beg  you  to  let  her  have  it  soon.' 

'  As  if  a  slave  could  read ! '  He  looked  about  him  in  a 
melancholy  way,  and  rose  to  take  from  the  shelf  above 
his  head  a  good-sized  volume  bound  in  soft  brown  leather, 
with  little  thongs  tied  in  slip  knots,  for  clasps,  to  keep  it 
shut. 

'Take  her  that,'  he  said,  thrusting  the  book  into  the 
girl's  hands. 

Yulia  took  it,  and  before  she  had  left  the  room  Omo- 
bono  was  gravely  busy  with  his  figures  again ;  but  each 
time  he  added  up  a  column  the  sum  seemed  to  be  '  cack 
ling  hen,'  instead  of  anything  reasonable.  But  Yulia 
ran  upstairs. 

Zoe  untied  the  thongs  and  opened  the  book  in  the 
middle.  An  exclamation  of  anger  and  disgust  escaped 
her  lips.  The  secretary,  who  did  not  believe  she  could 
really  read,  though  she  spoke  Latin  fluently,  had  sent  an 
old  volume  of  accounts  in  answer  to  her  request.  There 
were  pages  and  pages  of  entries  and  columns  of  figures, 
all  neatly  written  in  his  small,  clear  hand,  on  stout  cotton 
paper.  Here  and  there  some  one  else  had  made  a  note, 
as  if  checking  his  work. 

Zoe  pushed  the  book  away  from  her  on  the  divan,  and 
it  fell  over  the  edge  and  lay  face  downwards  and  open 
on  the  floor.  Then  the  little  tune  began  again  in  her 
head. 

'  He  shall  pay  me  for  this ! ' 


152  ARETHUSA 


CHAP. 


She  wished  he  would  open  the  door  noiselessly  and  be 
all  at  once  beside  her,  as  on  that  first  evening.  •  That 
had  been  Friday,  and  to-day  was  Wednesday ;  five  days 
had  gone  by.  Counting  Friday  there  were  six,  and  six 
days  were  practically  a  week !  She  had  been  under  his 
roof  a  whole  week  and  he  had  only  cared  to  see  her  face 
once. 

'  He  shall  pay  me  for  this  F 

The  tune  went  on,  and  she  quite  forgot  how  she  had 
longed  for  death,  and  how  his  first  anticipated  coming 
had  been  dreadful  beyond  anything  she  had  ever  suffered, 
beyond  cold,  starvation,  and  misery.  Or  if  she  remem 
bered  it  at  all,  she  told  herself  that  the  man  she  had  seen 
was  not  the  kind  of  man  she  had  expected,  and  that  she 
had  nothing  to  fear  from  him.  She  was  quite  sure  of 
that. 

She  turned  on  one  side,  as  she  half  lay  on  the  divan, 
till  she  could  reach  the  account-book  to  pick  it  up.  One 
of  the  maids  jumped  up  from  the  carpet  to  help 
her. 

'Go  away!'  she  exclaimed  crossly,  for  she  had  got 
hold  of  the  cover  and  had  drawn  the  volume  over  the 
edge  of  the  divan.  'I  will  call  if  I  want  anything.' 

The  girls  slipped  away  in  silence  and  left  her  alone. 
She  turned  over  the  pages  with  a  sort  of  angry  curiosity, 
half  expecting  to  find  an  entry  concerning  slaves  bought 
and  sold  like  herself.  Just  then  she  could  have  believed 
Zeno  capable  of  anything. 

But  though  she  found  a  great  many  strange  words 
which  she  did  not  understand,  and  which  referred  to 


vin  AEETHUSA  153 

tonnage,  insurance,  profit  and  loss,  and  all  the  com 
plicated  matters  of  an  Eastern  merchant's  business, 
there  was  nothing  which  could  possibly  be  interpreted 
to  mean  that  Zeno  had  dealt  in  humanity,  as  most  of 
the  Venetians  who  lived  in  Constantinople  certainly  did. 
Sebastian  Polo's  name  occurred  very  often.  Large  sums 
had  been  paid  to  him,  and  other  large  sums  had  been  re 
ceived  from  him.  It  was  clear  that  the  two  men  were  in 
close  relations  of  business,  and  constantly  made  ventures 
together,  dividing  the  profits  and  sharing  the  losses. 

That  might  account  for  Zeno's  constant  visits  to  his 
fellow-merchant,  though  Zoe  was  not  inclined  to  admit 
such  a  view.  On  the  contrary,  she  made  herself  be 
lieve  that  Zeno  dealt  with  Polo  solely  in  order  to  make 
an  excuse  for  seeing  more  of  the  latter's  daughter.  He 
should  pay  for  that,  too!  The  little  tune  hammered 
away  in  her  head  at  a  great  rate. 

She  clapped  her  hands. 

'Take  this  back  to  the  secretary/  she  said,  giving  the 
book  to  Yulia.  '  Tell  him  I  am  not  a  merchant's  clerk, 
and  that  I  want  something  to  read.' 

Again  little  Yulia  tripped  downstairs  to  the  ground 
floor.  But  the  counting-house  was  locked,  and  the 
men-servants  told  her  that  Omobono  had  gone  out.  She 
would  not  leave  the  book  with  them,  for  she  had  a  super- 
stitiously  exaggerated  idea  of  the  value  of  all  written 
things ;  therefore,  after  a  moment's  hesitation,  she  turned 
and  carried  it  upstairs  again,  though  she  did  not  like  the 
idea  of  facing  her  mistress. 

At  the  first  landing  she  almost  ran  against  the  master 


154  AKETHUSA  CHAP. 

of  the  house,  who  asked  her  what  she  was  carrying  and 
where  she  was  going.  He  spoke  rather  sharply,  and 
Yulia  was  frightened  and  told  him  the  whole  story,  ex 
plaining  that  Zoe  seemed  to  be  in  a  bad  temper,  and 
would  be  angry  with  her  for  bringing  back  the  account- 
book,  but  that  it  was  Omobono's  fault.  How  could  he 
dare  to  suppose  that  the  Kokona  could  not  read  ?  And 
why  was  he  out  ?  And  if  he  was  not  out  why  had  the 
men-servants  told  her  that  he  was  ? 

The  little  slave  did  as  all  slaves  and  servants  naturally 
do  when  they  wish  to  gain  favour  with  the  master; 
she  hinted  that  all  the  other  servants  in  the  house  were 
in  league  to  do  evil,  and  that  she  only  was  righteous. 
Zeno  carelessly  looked  through  the  pages  of  the  account- 
book  as  he  stood  listening  to  her  tale. 

'You  talk  too  much/  he  observed,  when  she  paused. 
'Go  upstairs/ 

Thereupon  he  turned  his  back  on  her  and  went  in 
under  the  heavy  curtain  to  his  own  room,  taking  the 
book  with  him  and  leaving  Yulia  considerably  discon 
certed.  She  looked  at  the  curtain  disconsolately  for  a 
few  seconds,  and  then  slowly  ascended  the  second  flight 
of  steps  to  the  women's  apartments. 

A  few  minutes  later  Zeno  himself  followed  her,  with 
another  book  in  his  hand.  He  knocked  discreetly  at  the 
outer  door,  and  Lucilla  opened,  for  Yulia  was  still  ex 
plaining  to  Zoe  what  had  happened.  The  maid  stood 
aside  to  let  the  master  pass  through  the  vestibule  which 
separated  the  inner  rooms  from  the  staircase.  Zeno 
raised  the  curtain  and  went  in. 


vni  ARETHTJSA  155 

'I  am  no  great  reader/  he  said,  as  he  came  forward 
towards  the  divan, '  but  I  have  brought  you  this  old  book. 
It  may  amuse  you.  The  man  died  more  than  fifty  years 
ago,  and  I  fancy  he  was  mad ;  but  there  must  be  some 
thing  in  his  poem,  for  it  has  been  copied  again  and  again. 
This  was  given  me  by  the  Emperor  Charles  when  I  was 
with  him  in  Venice.' 

Zoe  had  time  to  recover  from  her  surprise  and  to  study 
his  face  and  manner  while  he  spoke,  and  again  she  was 
convinced  that  he  was  a  little  shy  in  her  presence.  If 
she  changed  colour  at  all  he  did  not  see  it,  for  though 
he  glanced  at  her  two  or  three  times,  he  looked  more 
often  at  the  book  he  held.  As  he  finished  speaking  he 
placed  it  in  her  hands  and  his  eyes  met  hers. 

Possibly  Zoe  had  guessed  that  if  she  could  make  a 
stir  in  the  house  by  sending  messages  to  Omobono,  the 
master  would  at  last  come  in  person;  at  all  events  she 
felt  a  little  thrill  of  triumph  when  he  was  before  her 
bringing  his  book  and  speaking  pleasantly,  as  a  sort  of 
peace-offering  for  having  neglected  her  so  long. 

'Thank  you,'  said  she,  very  sweetly.  'Will  it  please 
your  lordship  to  be  seated  ? ' 

Yulia  had  pushed  forward  a  large  fold-stool,  and  Zoe 
motioned  to  her  and  her  companion  to  sit  down  in  a 
corner.  Zeno  thought  she  had  sent  them  out  of  the 
room,  and  he  looked  round  and  saw  them  squatting  on 
their  carpet,  side  by  side. 

'Shall  I  send  them  away?'  asked  Zoe,  with  a  sweet 
smile. 

'They  are  not  in  the  way,'  Zeno  answered  coldly; 


156  ARETHUSA  CHAP. 

for  he  felt  that  they  might  be  if  they  understood,  but 
nothing  would  have  induced  him  to  dismiss  them  just 
then. 

A  little  pause  followed,  during  which  Zoe  opened  the 
manuscript  and  read  the  illuminated  title-page. 

'It  is  dull  for  you,  here,'  said  Carlo  awkwardly. 

Zoe  did  not  even  look  up,  and  affected  to  answer 
absently,  while  she  turned  over  the  pages. 

'Oh  no !'  she  said.  'Not  in  the  least,  I  assure  you!' 
She  went  back  to  the  title  and  read  it  aloud.  "'The 
Divine  Comedy  of  Dante  Alighieri"  —  I  have  heard  his 
name.  A  Sicilian,  was  he  not?  Or  a  Lombard?  I 
cannot  remember.  Have  you  read  the  poetry?  The 
paintings  are  very  pretty,  I  see.  There  is  much  more 
life  in  Italian  painting  than  in  our  stiff  pictures  with 
their  gilt  backgrounds.  Of  course,  there  is  a  certain 
childlike  simplicity  about  them,  an  absence  of  school,  of 
the  traditions  of  good  masters,  of  reverence  for  the  old 
art!  But  they  mean  something  that  is,  whereas  our 
Greek  pictures  mean  something  that  never  was.  Do 
you  agree  with  me?' 

She  had  talked  on  in  a  careless  tone,  toying  with  the 
book,  and  only  looking  up  as  she  asked  a  question  with 
out  waiting  for  a  reply.  By  the  time  she  paused  she  had 
asked  so  many  that  Zeno  only  noticed  the  last. 

'You  would  like  Venice,'  he  said,  'but  you  would  like 
Florence  better.  There  are  good  pictures  there,  I  be 
lieve.' 

'You  have  not  seen  them  yourself  ?' 

'Oh  yes!    But  I  do  not  understand  such  things. 


VIII 


ARETHUSA  157 


This  man  Alighieri  describes  some  of  them  in  his  book. 
He  was  a  Florentine.' 

As  Zeno  showed  himself  more  willing  to  talk,  Zoe 
seemed  to  grow  more  indifferent.  She  laid  the  book 
down  beside  her,  leaned  back,  and  looked  out  of  the  win 
dow,  turning  her  face  half  away  from  him.  It  was  the 
first  time  he  had  seen  her  by  daylight  since  she  had 
come,  and  the  strong  afternoon  light  glowed  in  her  white 
skin,  her  eyes,  and  her  brown  hair.  He  could  have  seen 
on  her  cheek  the  very  smallest  imperfection,  had  it  been 
as  tiny  as  the  point  of  a  pin,  but  there  was  none.  He 
looked  at  her  tender  mouth ;  and  in  the  strong  glare  he 
could  have  detected  the  least  roughness  on  her  lips,  if 
they  had  not  been  as  smooth  as  fresh  fruit.  Moreover, 
the  line  from  her  ear  to  her  neck  was  really  as  perfect  as 
it  had  seemed  at  first  sight.  Her  nervous,  high-bred 
young  hand  lay  on  the  folds  of  her  over-garment,  within 
his  reach,  and  he  felt  much  inclined  to  take  it  and  hold 
it.  He  did  not  remember  that  any  woman's  near 
presence  had  disturbed  him  in  the  same  way,  nor  had 
he  ever  hesitated  on  the  few  occasions  in  his  life  when  he 
had  been  inclined  to  take  a  woman's  hand.  He  had  the 
fullest  rights  which  the  laws  of  the  Empire  could  give 
him,  for  Arethusa,  as  he  called  her,  was  his  property 
out-and-out,  and  if  he  died  suddenly  she  would  be  sold 
at  auction  with  the  furniture.  Yet,  for  some  wholly 
inexplicable  reason  he  did  not  quite  dare  to  touch  the 
tips  of  her  fingers. 

'I  have  heard  that  you  are  a  hero,'  Zoe  observed, 
without  looking  at  him.  'Is  it  true ?' 


158  ARETHUSA 


CHAP. 


Then  she  turned  her  eyes  to  him  and  smiled  a  little 
maliciously,  he  fancied,  as  if  she  had  guessed  his  timidity 
from  his  silence. 

'Who  told  you  such  nonsense?'  Zeno  asked,  with  a 
laugh,  for  her  question  had  broken  the  ice  —  or  perhaps 
had  quenched  the  fire  for  a  while.  'I  am  a  man  like  any 
other!' 

'That  I  doubt,  sir/  answered  Zoe,  laughing  too, 
though  not  much. 

'You  have  no  experience  of  men/  he  said.  'They 
are  all  like  me,  I  assure  you.  One  sheep  is  not  more 
like  another  in  a  flock.' 

'I  should  not  have  taken  you  for  one  of  the  common 
herd.  Besides,  I  know  of  your  deeds  in  Italy  and  Greece, 
and  how  you  fought  a  Turkish  army  for  a  whole  year  with 
a  handful  of  men ' 

'I  have  seen  some  fighting,  of  course/  Zeno  replied. 
'  But  that  is  all  in  the  past.  I  am  a  sober,  peace-loving 
Venetian  merchant  now,  and  nothing  else.' 

'It  must  be  very  dull  to  be  a  sober,  peace-loving 
Venetian  merchant/  said  Zoe,  faintly  mimicking  his 
tone. 

'Making  money  is  too  hard  work  to  be  dull.' 

'I  suppose  so.  And  then/  she  added,  with  magnifi 
cent  calm,  'I  have  always  heard  that  avarice  is  the 
passion  of  old  age.' 

Zeno  fell  into  the  trap. 

'Dear  me!'  he  cried  in  astonishment.  'How  old  do 
you  think  I  am?' 

Zoe  looked  at  him  quietly. 


vin  AKETHUSA  159 

'I  have  no  experience  of  men/  she  said,  with  perfect 
gravity,  'but  from  your  manner,  sir,  I  should  judge  you 
to  be  —  about  fifty.' 

Zeno's  jaw  dropped,  for  she  spoke  so  naturally  and 
quietly  that  he  could  not  believe  she  was  laughing  at  him. 

'I  shall  be  twenty-nine  in  August/  he  answered. 

'Only  twenty-nine?'  Zoe  affected  great  surprise. 
'I  should  have  thought  you  were  much,  much  older! 
Are  you  quite  sure?' 

'Yes.'  Carlo  laughed.  'I  am  quite  sure.  But  I 
suppose  I  seem  very  old  to  you.' 

'Oh  yes !    Very !'    She  nodded  gravely  as  she  spoke. 

'You  are  seventeen,  are  you  not?'  Zeno  asked. 

'How  in  the  world  should  I  know!'  she  enquired. 
'Is  not  my  age  set  down  in  the  receipt  Rustan  gave  you 
with  me  ?  How  should  a  slave  know  her  own  age,  sir  ? 
And  if  we  knew  it,  do  you  think  that  any  of  us  could  speak 
the  truth,  except  under  torture  ?  It  would  not  be  worth 
while  to  dislocate  my  arms  and  burn  my  feet  with  hot 
irons,  just  to  know  how  old  I  am,  would  it  ?  You  could 
not  even  sell  me  again,  if  I  had  once  been  tortured !' 

'What  horrible  ideas  you  have!  Imagine  torturing 
this  little  thing!' 

Thereupon,  without  warning,  he  took  her  hand  in  his 
and  looked  at  it.  She  made  a  very  slight  instinctive 
movement  to  withdraw  it,  and  then  it  lay  quite  still  and 
passive. 

'I  am  sure  I  could  never  bear  pain/  she  said,  smiling. 
'  I  should  tell  everything  at  once !  I  should  never  make 
a  good  conspirator.  I  suppose  you  must  have  been 


160  AEETHUSA 


CHAP. 


wounded  once  or  twice,  when  you  were  young.  Tell  me, 
did  it  hurt  very  much?' 

He  let  her  hand  fall  as  he  answered,  and  she  drew  it 
back  and  hid  it  under  her  wide  sleeve. 

'A  cut  with  a  sharp  sword  feels  like  a  stream  of  icy- 
cold  water,'  he  answered.  'A  thrust  through  the  flesh 
pricks  like  a  big  thorn,  and  pricks  again  when  the  point 
comes  out  on  the  other  side.  One  feels  very  little,  or 
nothing  at  all,  if  one  is  badly  wounded  in  the  head,  for 
one  is  stunned  at  once;  it  is  the  headache  afterwards 
that  really  hurts.  If  one  is  wounded  in  the  lungs,  one 
feels  nothing,  but  one  is  choked  by  the  blood,  and  one 
must  turn  on  one's  face  at  once  in  order  not  to  suffocate. 
Broken  bones  hurt  afterwards  as  a  rule,  more  than  at 
first,  but  it  is  a  curious  sensation  to  have  one's  collar 
bone  smashed  by  a  blow  from  a  two-handed  sword ' 

'  Good  heavens ! '  cried  Zoe.  '  What  a  catalogue ! 
How  do  you  know  how  each  thing  feels?' 

1 1  can  remember,'  Zeno  answered  simply. 

'You  have  been  wounded  in  all  those  different  ways, 
and  you  are  alive  ?' 

Zeno  smiled. 

'Yes;  and  you  understand  now  why  I  look  so  old.' 

'I  was  not  in  earnest,'  Zoe  said.  'You  knew  that  I 
was  not.  You  need  only  look  at  yourself  in  a  mirror 
to  see  that  I  was  laughing.' 

'I  was  not  very  deeply  hurt  by  being  taken  for  a  man 
of  fifty,'  Zeno  answered,  not  quite  truthfully. 

'Oh  no!'  laughed  Zoe.  'I  cannot  imagine  that  my 
opinion  of  your  age  could  make  any  difference  to  you. 


vin  AKETHUSA  161 

It  was  silly  of  me  —  only,  for  a  man  who  has  had  so 
many  adventures,  you  do  look  absurdly  young!' 

'So  much  the  better,  since  my  fighting  days  are  over.' 

'And  since  you  are  a  sober,  peace-loving  merchant,' 
said  Zoe,  continuing  the  sentence  for  him.  'But  are 
you  so  very  sure,  my  lord?  Would  nothing  make  you 
draw  your  sword  again  and  risk  your  life  on  your  fencing  ? 
Nothing?' 

'Nothing  that  did  not  affect  my  honour,  I  truly  be 
lieve.' 

'  You  would  not  do  it  for  a  woman's  sake  ? '  She  turned 
to  him,  to  watch  his  face,  but  its  expression  did  not 
change. 

'Three  things  can  drive  a  wise  man  mad,  —  wine, 
women,  and  dice.' 

'I  daresay!  Your  lordship  reckons  us  in  good  com 
pany.  But  that  is  no  answer  to  my  question.' 

'Yes  it  is,'  said  Zeno  with  a  laugh.  'Why  should  I  do 
for  a  woman  what  I  would  not  do  for  dice  or  wine  ?' 

'But  dice  and  wine  never  tempted  you,'  Zoe  objected. 

Zeno  laughed  louder. 

'  Never  ?  When  I  was  a  student  at  Padua  I  sold  every 
thing,  even  my  books,  to  get  money  for  both.  It  was 
only  when  the  books  were  gone  that  I  turned  soldier, 
and  learned  the  greatest  game  of  hazard  in  the  world. 
Compared  with  that,  dice  are  an  opiate,  and  wine  is  a 
sleeping-draught.' 

He  only  smiled  now,  after  laughing,  but  there  was  a 
look  in  his  face  as  he  spoke  which  she  saw  then  for  the 
first  time  and  did  not  forget,  and  recognised  when  she 


162  ARETHUSA  CHAP. 

saw  it  again.  It  was  subtle,  and  might  have  passed 
unnoticed  among  men,  but  it  spoke  to  the  sex  in  the  girl, 
and  made  her  young  blood  thrill.  For  worlds,  she  would 
not  have  had  him  guess  what  she  felt  just  then. 

'  Fighting  for  its  own  sake  would  tempt  you,  if  nothing 
else  could,'  she  answered  quietly. 

'Ah  —  perhaps,  perhaps/  he  answered,  musing. 

'But  you  would  need  a  cause,  though  ever  so  slight, 
and  you  have  none  here,  have  you  ?' 

'None  that  I  care  to  take  up.' 

'You  may  find  something  to  fight  for  —  over  the 
water/  Zoe  suggested,  emphasising  the  words  a  little 
and  watching  his  face. 

The  phrase  meant  nothing  to  him. 

'Over  the  water?'  he  repeated  carelessly.  'At  home, 
in  Venice,  you  mean.  Yes,  if  Venice  needed  me,  I 
should  not  wait  to  be  called  twice ! ' 

It  was  quite  clear  that  he  attached  no  meaning  to  the 
words  she  had  used,  and  this  fact  tallied  with  what  the 
astrologer  had  told  her  in  the  morning  as  to  his  having 
been  deaf  to  all  advances  made  to  him  by  the  imprisoned 
Emperor's  party. 

Zoe  leaned  back  in  silence  for  a  while,  almost  closing 
her  eyes,  and  she  saw  that  he  watched  her,  and  that  an 
unmistakable  look  of  admiration  stole  into  his  face.  She 
was  wondering  whether  it  would  ever  turn  into  something 
more,  and  whether  she  should  ever  see  the  gleam  of 
fight  in  his  eyes,  for  her  sake,  that  had  flashed  in  them  a 
moment  ago  at  the  mere  thought  of  battle.  What  did 
women  do,  to  make  men  love  them?  There  is  an  age 


VIII 


ARETHUSA  163 


when  girls  believe  that  love  need  only  be  called,  like  a 
tame  dove,  and  that  he  will  fly  in  at  the  window;  and 
there  is  an  age  when  he  comes  to  them  uncalled-for.  If 
only  the  ages  were  the  same  for  all,  much  trouble  might 
be  spared.  Zoe  was  perhaps  between  the  two,  but  she 
still  believed  that  there  was  some  fixed  rule  on  which 
clever  women  acted  to  make  men  fall  in  love  with  them, 
those  wicked  women  who  are  described  to  young  girls 
as  'designing,'  and  are  supposed  to  know  precisely  the 
effect  they  can  produce  on  men  at  any  moment,  to  the 
very  nicety  of  an  eyelash. 

Zeno  broke  the  long  silence  with  an  unexpected  speech 
which  roughly  awakened  Zoe  from  her  reflection. 

'As  for  this  Emperor  John  whom  his  son  has  locked 
up,'  he  said,  'his  friends  have  done  their  best  to  interest 
me  in  his  cause.  He  has  even  sent  me  messages,  begging 
me  to  help  him  to  escape.  Why  ?  What  difference  can 
it  make  to  me  whether  he  or  his  son  dies  in  the  Amena 
tower  ?  They  are  poor  things,  both  of  them,  and  for  all 
I  care  John  may  starve  in  his  chains  before  I  will  lift 
a  finger ! ' 

Zoe  sighed  and  bit  her  lip  to  check  herself,  for  his 
voluntary  declaration  had  dashed  the  palace  of  her 
hopes  to  pieces  in  an  instant. 

Then  she  was  ashamed  of  having  even  dreamt  that  he 
might  love  her,  since  he  despised  the  very  cause  for 
which  she  had  wished  to  win  his  love.  But  this  state  of 
mind  did  not  last  long,  either.  She  was  too  brave  to 
let  such  a  speech  pass,  as  if  she  agreed  with  it. 

'  You_are  wrong,'  she  said,  quite  forgetting  that  she  had 


164  ARETHUSA  CHAP.  vin. 

set  herself  to  play  the  part  of  the  slave.  'You  ought 
to  help  him,  if  you  can  —  and  you  can,  if  you  will.' 

Zeno  looked  at  her  in  surprise.  There  was  something 
like  authority  in  her  tone,  and  the  two  little  maids,  whom 
he  had  forgotten  in  their  corner  behind  him,  stared  in 
astonishment  at  her  audacity.  Not  a  word  of  the  con 
versation  had  ecaped  them. 

'I  mean/  continued  Zoe,  before  he  could  find  an  answer 
to  her  plain  statement,  'if  you  are  a  true  Venetian  you 
should  wish  to  put  down  the  man  whom  the  Genoese 
and  the  Turks  have  set  on  the  throne.  Johannes  is  your 
friend  and  your  country's  friend,  though  he  is  a  weak 
man  and  always  will  be.  Andronicus  is  an  enemy  to 
Venice  and  a  friend  to  her  enemies.  He  is  even  now  ready 
to  give  the  island  of  Tenedos  to  them  —  the  key  to  the 
Dardanelles ' 

'What?'  asked  Zeno  in  a  loud  and  angry  tone. 
'Tenedos?' 

His  manner  had  changed,  and  he  almost  rose  from  his 
seat  as  he  bent  forwards  and  seized  her  wrist  in  his 
excitement.  She  was  glad,  and  smiled  at  him. 

'Yes,'  she  answered,  'the  Genoese  demand  it  as  the 
price  of  their  protection,  and  they  will  force  him  to  give 
it  to  them.  But  it  may  not  be  easy,  for  the  governor  of 
the  island  is  loyal  to  Johannes.' 

'How  do  you  know  these  things?'  asked  Zeno,  still 
holding  her  wrist  and  trying  to  look  into  her  eyes. 

'I  know  them,'  Zoe  answered.  'If  I  am  not  telling 
you  the  truth,  sell  me  in  the  market  to-morrow.' 

'By  the  Evangelist,'  swore  Zeno,  'you  will  deserve  it.' 


I  know  them,'  Zoe  answered.     '  If  I  am  not  telling  you  the  truth,  sell  me  in  the 
market  to-morrow.' 


CHAPTER  IX 

A  MONTH  had  passed,  and  yet,  to  all  outward  ap 
pearance,  Zeno's  manner  of  living  had  undergone 
no  change.  He  rose  early  and  bathed  in  the 
Golden  Horn  on  fine  days.  He  attended  to  his  business 
in  the  morning,  and  dined  with  Sebastian  Polo  twice  a 
week,  but  generally  at  home  on  the  remaining  days; 
and  he  rode  out  in  the  afternoon  with  a  single  running 
footman,  or  stayed  indoors  if  it  rained.  Even  his  own 
servants  and  slaves  hardly  noticed  any  change  in  his 
habits,  and  only  observed  that  he  often  looked  preoc 
cupied,  and  sometimes  sat  on  his  balcony  for  an  hour 
without  moving,  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  towers  of  the 
Blachernse  palace. 

They  did  not  know  how  much  time  he  spent  with  his 
beautiful  Greek  slave ;  and  they  found  that  the  two  little 
maids,  Yulia  and  Lucilla,  were  not  inclined  to  gossip 
when  they  came  downstairs  on  an  errand.  Omobono 
probably  knew  a  good  deal,  but  he  kept  it  to  himself, 
and  stored  the  fruits  of  his  lively  curiosity  to  enjoy  alone 
the  delicious  sensation  of  the  miser  gloating  over  his 
useless  gold.  On  the  whole,  therefore,  life  in  the  Vene 
tian  merchant's  house  had  gone  on  much  as  usual  for 
a  whole  month  after  Zoe  had  fired  a  train  which  was 
destined  to  produce  momentous  results  when  it  reached 
the  mine  at  last. 

165 


166  AKETHUSA  CHAP. 

Zeno  saw  her  every  day  now,  and  often  twice,  and  she 
had  become  a  part  of  his  life,  and  necessary  to  him ;  though 
he  did  not  believe  that  he  was  in  love  with  her,  any  more 
than  she  would  have  admitted  that  she  loved  him. 

For  each  was  possessed  by  one  dominant  thought; 
and  it  chanced,  as  it  rarely  chances  in  real  life,  that  one 
deed,  if  it  could  be  performed,  would  satisfy  the  hopes 
of  both.  Zeno,  born  patriot  and  leader,  saw  that  the 
whole  influence  of  his  country  in  the  East  was  at  stake 
in  the  matter  of  Tenedos;  Zoe  thirsted  to  revenge  the 
death  of  Michael  Rhangabe,  her  adopted  father  and  the 
idol  of  her  childhood. 

If  the  imprisoned  Emperor  Johannes  could  be  de 
livered  from  the  Amena  tower,  both  would  certainly 
obtain  what  they  most  desired.  Johannes  would  give 
Tenedos  to  Venice,  in  gratitude  for  his  liberty,  and  the 
people  of  Constantinople  would  probably  tear  Androni- 
cus  to  ribands  in  the  Hippodrome,  on  the  very  spot 
where  Rhangabe  had  suffered. 

They  would  rally  round  their  lawful  sovereign  if  he 
could  only  be  got  out  of  the  precincts  of  the  palace, 
where  the  usurper  was  strongly  guarded  by  his  foreign 
mercenaries,  mostly  Circassians,  Mingrelians,  Avars,  and 
Slavonians.  The  people  would  not  rise  of  themselves 
to  storm  Blachernse,  nor  would  the  Greek  troops  revolt 
of  their  own  accord;  but  as  they  all  feared  the  soldiers 
of  the  foreign  legion,  they  hated  them  and  their  master 
Andronicus,  and  the  presence  of  Johannes  amongst 
them  would  restore  their  courage  and  make  the  issue 
certain. 


ix  ARETHUSA  167 

Such  a  leader  as  Carlo  Zeno  might  indeed  have  success 
fully  besieged  Andronicus  in  his  palace;  but  he  knew, 
and  every  man  and  woman  in  Constantinople  knew  well 
enough,  that  Andronicus  would  make  an  end  of  his 
father  and  of  his  two  younger  brothers  in  prison,  at  the 
first  sign  of  a  revolution,  so  that  there  might  be  no  lawful 
heir  to  the  throne  left  alive  but  he  himself. 

Therefore  it  was  the  first  and  the  chief  object  of  the 
patriots  to  bring  Johannes  secretly  from  his  place  of 
confinement  to  the  heart  of  the  city,  or  to  one  of  the 
islands,  beyond  the  reach  of  danger,  till  the  revolution 
should  be  over  and  his  son  a  prisoner  in  his  stead ;  though 
it  was  much  more  probable  that  the  latter  would  be 
summarily  put  to  death  as  a  traitor. 

All  this  Zeno  had  understood  before  Zoe  had  spoken 
to  him  about  it ;  but  he  had  not  known  that  the  Genoese 
had  demanded  Tenedos  of  Andronicus  as  the  price  of 
their  protection  against  the  Turks;  for  the  negotiations 
had  been  kept  very  secret,  and  at  first  Carlo  had  not 
believed  the  girl,  and  had  deemed  that  the  tale  might 
be  a  pure  invention. 

He  had  come  again  to  see  her  on  the  following  day,  and 
again  he  had  vainly  tried  to  find  out  who  she  was,  and 
in  what  great  Fanariote  house  she  had  been  brought  up. 
It  was  impossible  to  get  a  word  from  her  on  this  subject ; 
and  she  warned  him  that  what  she  had  told  him  must  not 
be  repeated  in  the  hearing  of  any  Genoese,  nor  of  any  one 
connected  with  the  Court.  The  Genoese  meant  that  no 
one  should  know  of  the  treaty  till  it  was  carried  out,  and 
until  Tenedos  was  theirs;  for  the  place  was  very  strong, 


168  AKETHUSA 


CHAP. 


as  they  afterwards  found  by  experience,  and  Andronicus 
needed  their  help  too  much  to  risk  losing  their  favour 
by  an  indiscretion. 

These  injunctions  of  silence  made  Carlo  still  more 
doubtful  as  to  the  veracity  of  Zoe's  story,  and  he 
frankly  told  her  so  and  demanded  proof ;  but  she  only 
answered  as  she  had  at  first. 

'If  it  is  not  true/  she  said,  ' brand  me  in  the  fore 
head,  as  they  brand  thieves,  and  sell  me  in  the  open 
market.' 

And  again  he  was  angry,  and  swore  that  he  would  do 
so  by  her  indeed  if  the  story  was  a  lie;  but  she  smiled 
confidently,  and  nodded  her  assent. 

'If  you  do  not  save  the  Emperor,'  she  said,  'you 
Venetians  will  be  driven  out  of  Constantinople  before 
many  months;  and  if  Genoa  once  holds  Tenedos  how 
shall  you  ever  again  sail  up  the  Dardanelles?' 

Many  a  time  she  had  heard  Michael  Rhangabe*  say  as 
much  to  his  friends,  and  she  knew  that  it  was  wisdom. 
So  did  Zeno,  and  he  wondered  at  the  knowledge  of  his 
bought  slave.  So  he  came  and  went,  turning  over  the 
great  question  in  his  brain ;  and  she  awaited  his  coming 
gladly,  because  she  saw  that  he  was  roused,  and  because 
the  longing  for  just  revenge  was  uppermost  in  her 
thoughts.  Thus  were  the  two  drawn  together  more  and 
more,  fate  helping.  Yet  he  told  her  nothing  of  the  steps 
he  took  so  quickly  after  he  had  once  made  up  his  mind 
to  act. 

She  no  longer  asked  him  what  he  meant  to  do  with  her ; 
she  did  not  again  send  for  the  secretary  to  complain 


ix  AKETHUSA  169 

that  her  existence  was  dull ;  she  no  longer  was  impatient 
with  her  maids;  she  seemed  perfectly  satisfied  with  her 
existence. 

She  went  out  when  she  pleased  to  go,  in  the  beautiful 
skiff,  in  charge  of  Omobono,  and  always  with  one  of  the 
girls ;  and  she  sat  in  the  deep  cushioned  seat  as  the  great 
ladies  did  when  they  were  rowed  to  the  Sweet  Waters, 
and  as  she  had  sat  many  times  in  old  days,  beside  Kyria 
Agatha.  The  secretary  sat  on  a  little  movable  seat  in 
the  waist  of  the  boat,  which  was  built  almost  exactly 
like  a  modern  Venetian  gondola  without  the  hood,  and 
the  slave-girl  sat  in  the  bottom  at  her  mistress's  feet. 
Zoe,  the  adopted  daughter  of  the  Protosparthos,  had 
gone  abroad  with  uncovered  face,  but  Arethusa,  the  slave, 
was  closely  veiled,  though  that  was  not  the  general  cus 
tom.  And  often,  as  she  glided  along  in  the  spring  after 
noons,  she  passed  people  she  had  known  only  a  year  ago, 
or  a  little  more,  who  wondered  why  she  hid  her  features; 
or  told  each  other,  as  was  more  or  less  true,  that  she  was 
some  handsome  white  slave,  whose  jealous  master  would 
not  suffer  her  beauty  to  be  seen.  For  it  was  clear  that 
Omobono  was  only  a  respectable  elderly  person  placed 
in  charge  of  her. 

The  two  generally  conversed  in  Latin,  and  the  secretary 
told  her  of  his  search  for  Kyria  Agatha,  the  children, 
and  old  Nectaria.  She  had  never  shown  him  her  face 
since  she  had  been  a  slave,  and  she  believed  that  he  did 
not  connect  her  with  the  ragged  girl  he  had  seen  bending 
over  the  sick  woman's  bed  in  the  beggars'  quarter.  She 
had  enjoined  upon  him  the  greatest  discretion  in  case 


170  ARETHUSA  CHAP. 

he  found  the  little  family,  and  with  Omobono  such  an 
injunction  was  quite  unnecessary,  for  outward  discretion 
is  the  characteristic  quality  of  curiosity,  which  is  in 
wardly  the  least  discreet  of  failings.  People  who  look 
through  keyholes,  listen  behind  curtains,  and  read  other 
people's  letters  are  generally  the  last  to  talk  of  what  they 
learn  in  that  way. 

As  yet,  the  secretary's  search  had  been  fruitless,  but 
he  had  long  ago  made  up  his  mind  that  Zoe  was  Kyria 
Agatha's  daughter.  The  bandy-legged  sacristan  of  Saint 
Bacchus  had  helped  him  to  this  conclusion  by  informing 
him  that  Rustan  Karaboghazji  had  not  come  to  perform 
his  devotions  in  the  church  for  some  time;  never,  in 
fact,  since  that  Friday  afternoon  on  which  Omobono 
had  inquired  after  him. 

The  secretary  had  searched  the  beggars'  quarter  in  vain. 
He  remembered  the  ruined  house  very  well,  and  the  crazy 
shutters  with  bits  of  rain-bleached  string  tied  to  them 
for  fastenings.  There  were  people  living  in  it,  but  they 
were  not  the  same  beggars ;  it  was  now  inhabited  by  the 
chief  physician  of  the  beggars  himself,  whose  business 
it  was  to  prepare  misery  for  the  public  eye,  at  fixed  rates. 
For  among  those  who  were  really  starving  there  lived  a 
small  tribe  of  professional  paupers,  who  displayed  the 
horrors  of  their  loathsome  diseases  at  the  doors  of  the 
churches  all  over  Constantinople.  The  physician  was 
skilful  in  his  way,  and  though  he  preferred  a  real  cripple, 
or  a  real  sore  for  his  art  to  improve  upon,  he  could  produce 
the  semblance  of  either  on  sound  limbs  and  a  whole  skin, 
though  the  process  was  expensive.  Yet  that  increased 


ix  ARETHUSA  171 

cost  was  balanced  by  the  ability  of  his  healthy  patients 
to  go  alone  to  a  great  distance,  and  thus  to  vary  the 
scene  of  their  industry.  They  thus  picked  up  the  charity 
which  should  have  reached  the  real  poor,  most  of  whom 
could  hardly  crawl  as  far  as  the  great  thoroughfares  more 
than  once  or  twice  a  week,  at  the  risk  of  their  lives. 
The  sham  beggar  always  has  a  marvellous  power  of  cov 
ering  the  ground,  but  you  must  generally  seek  the  real 
one  in  the  lair  where  he  is  dying.  Omobono  had  learnt 
much  about  beggars  which  he  had  not  known  before 
then,  and  he  had  found  no  trace  whatever  of  the  people 
whom  he  was  seeking 

They  seemed  very  far  away  when  Zoe  thought  of  them. 
She  wondered  whether  any  of  them  missed  her,  except 
Nectaria,  now  that  they  had  warm  clothes  and  plenty  to 
eat.  The  sacrifice  had  been  very  terrible  at  first,  —  it 
did  not  seem  so  now;  and  she  knew  that  on  that  very 
afternoon  when  she  went  home  after  being  out  in  the 
boat,  she  would  listen  for  Zeno's  footstep  in  the  vestibule, 
and  think  the  time  long  till  he  came. 

But  Omobono  had  gathered  a  good  deal  of  information 
about  her  from  his  acquaintance,  the  sacristan,  whom 
he  strongly  suspected  of  being  in  league  with  Rustan 
to  inform  him  when  there  was  anything  worth  buying 
in  the  beggars'  quarter;  for  the  Bokharian  was  a  busy 
man,  and  had  no  time  to  spend  in  searching  for  unusual 
merchandise,  nor,  when  there  was  any  to  be  had,  would 
it  have  been  to  his  advantage  to  be  seen  often  in  its 
neighborhood.  So  he  paid  the  sacristan  to  quarter  the 
ground  continually  for  him,  while  he  was  engaged 


172  ARETHUSA 


CHAP. 


elsewhere.  It  is  to  the  credit  of  Rustan's  splendid  busi 
ness  intelligence  that  the  system  he  employed  has  not 
been  improved  on  in  five  hundred  years;  for  when  the 
modern  slave-dealers  make  their  annual  journeys  to  the 
centres  of  supply  they  find  everything  ready  for  them,  like 
any  other  commercial  traveller. 

Having  understood  Rustan's  mode  of  procedure, 
Omobono  had  extracted  from  the  sacristan  such  infor 
mation  as  the  latter  possessed  about  Zoe  and  Kyria 
Agatha,  but  that  was  not  very  much  after  all.  They 
had  lived  three  or  four  weeks  in  the  ruined  house,  or 
perhaps  six;  he  could  not  remember  exactly.  At  first 
they  all  came  to  the  church,  but  they  had  sold  their 
miserable  clothes  and  their  wretched  belongings.  The 
last  time  the  girl  had  come,  she  had  been  alone,  and  she 
had  worn  a  blanket  over  her  shoulders  to  keep  her  warm. 
That  had  been  at  dusk.  Then  Rustan  had  bought  her, 
and  soon  afterwards  they  must  have  gone  away,  since 
the  beggars'  physician  was  now  installed  in  the  house. 
Why  should  the  sacristan  take  any  interest  in  them? 
They  were  gone,  and  Constantinople  was  a  vast  city. 
No,  the  woman  had  not  died,  for  he  would  have  known  it. 
When  people  died  they  were  buried,  even  if  they  had 
starved  to  death  in  the  beggars'  quarter. 

Zoe  thanked  Omobono  for  the  information,  and 
begged  him  to  continue  her  search.  He  wondered  why 
she  did  not  burst  into  tears,  and  concluded  that  she  was 
either  quite  heartless,  or  was  in  love  with  Zeno,  or  both. 
He  inclined  to  the  latter  theory.  Love,  he  told  himself 
with  all  the  conviction  of  middle-aged  inexperience,  was 


IX 


ARETHUSA  173 


a  selfish  passion.  Zoe  loved  Zeno,  and  did  not  care  what 
had  become  of  her  mother. 

Besides,  he  knew  that  she  was  jealous.  She  had  heard 
of  Giustina,  and  was  determined  to  see  her.  She  in 
sisted  that  the  boat  should  keep  to  the  left,  going  up  the 
Golden  Horn,  and  she  made  the  secretary  point  out 
Sebastian  Polo's  dwelling.  It  was  a  small  palace,  a 
hundred  yards  below  the  gardens  of  Blachernae,  and  it 
had  marble  steps,  like  those  at  Zeno's  house.  A  girl 
with  dyed  hair  sat  in  the  shade  in  an  upper  balcony; 
her  hair  was  red  auburn,  like  that  of  the  Venetian  women, 
and  her  face  was  white,  but  that  was  all  Zoe  could  see. 
She  wished  she  had  a  hawk's  eyes.  Omobono  said  it 
might  be  Giustina,  but  as  the  latter  had  many  friends, 
it  might  also  be  one  of  them,  for  most  Venetian  women 
had  hair  of  that  colour. 

Farther  up,  they  neared  Blachernse,  and  came  first  to 
the  great  Amena  tower,  of  which  the  foundations  stood 
on  an  escarped  pier  in  the  water.  Zoe  looked  up, 
trying  to  guess  the  height  of  the  upper  windows  from  the 
water,  but  she  had  no  experience,  and  they  were  very 
high  —  perhaps  a  hundred  palms,  perhaps  fifty  —  Zeno 
would  know.  Could  he  get  up  there  by  a  rope?  She 
wondered,  and  she  thought  of  what  she  should  feel  if 
she  herself  were  hanging  there  in  mid-air  by  a  single  rope 
against  the  smooth  wall.  Then  in  her  imagination  she 
saw  Zeno  half-way  up,  and  some  one  cut  the  line  above, 
for  he  was  discovered,  and  he  fell.  A  painful  thrill  ran 
down  the  back  of  her  neck  and  her  spine  and  through 
her  limbs,  and  she  shrank  in  her  seat. 


174  ARETHUSA 


CHAP. 


It  was  up  there,  in  the  highest  story,  that  Johannes 
had  been  a  prisoner  nearly  two  years.  The  windows 
needed  no  gratings,  for  it  would  be  death  to  leap  out, 
and  no  one  could  climb  up  to  get  in.  The  pier  below 
the  tower  sloped  to  the  stream,  and  its  base  ran  out  so 
far  that  no  man  could  have  jumped  clear  of  it  from  above 
—  even  if  he  dared  the  desperate  risk  of  striking  the 
water.  Bertrandon  de  la  Broquiere  saw  it,  years  after 
wards,  when  Zeno  was  an  old  man,  and  you  may  look  at 
a  good  picture  of  it  in  his  illuminated  book. 

A  solitary  fisherman  was  perched  on  the  edge  of  the 
sloping  pier,  apparently  hindered  from  slipping  off  by 
the  very  slight  projection  of  the  lowest  course  of  stones, 
which  was  perpendicular.  His  brown  legs  were  bare  far 
above  the  knee,  he  wore  a  brown  fisherman's  coat  of  a 
woollen  stuff,  not  woven  but  fulled  like  felt ;  a  wide  hat 
of  sennet,  sewn  round  and  round  a  small  crown  of  tarred 
sailcloth,  flapped  over  his  ears.  He  angled  in  the  slow 
stream  with  a  long  reed  and  a  short  line. 

Zoe  looked  at  him  attentively  as  the  boat  passed  near 
him,  and  she  saw  that  he  was  watching  her,  too,  from 
under  the  limp  brim  of  his  queer  hat. 

Her  left  hand  hung  over  the  gunwale  of  the  skiff,  and 
when  she  was  opposite  the  fisherman  she  wetted  her 
fingers  and  carelessly  raised  them  to  her  lips  as  if  she  were 
tasting  the  drops.  The  man  instantly  replied  by  waving 
his  rod  over  the  water  thrice,  and  he  cast  his  short  line 
each  time.  She  had  seen  his  mouth  and  chin  and  scanty 
beard  below  the  hanging  brim  of  his  hat,  and  she  had 
fancied  that  she  recognised  him ;  she  had  no  doubt  of  it 


ix  ARETHUSA  175 

now.  The  solitary  fisherman  was  Gorlias  Pietrogliant, 
the  astrologer. 

Omobono  had  scarcely  noticed  him,  for  his  own  natural 
curiosity  made  him  look  steadily  up  at  the  high  windows, 
on  the  chance  that  the  imperial  prisoner  might  look  out 
just  then.  He  had  seen  him  once  or  twice  before  the 
revolution,  and  worjdered  whether  he  was  much  changed 
by  his  long  confinement.  But  instead  of  the  handsome 
bearded  face  the  secretary  remembered,  a  woman 
appeared  and  looked  towards  Pera  for  a  moment,  and 
drew  back  hastily  as  she  caught  sight  of  the  skiff ;  she 
was  rather  a  stout  woman  with  red  cheeks,  and  she  wore 
the  Greek  head-dress  of  the  upper  classes.  So  much 
Omobono  saw  at  a  glance,  though  the  window  was  fully 
ninety  feet  above  him,  and  she  had  only  remained  in  sight 
a  few  seconds  He  had  always  had  good  eyes. 

But  without  seeing  her  at  all  Zoe  had  understood  that 
communication  between  the  prisoner  and  the  outer  world 
was  carried  on  through  Gorlias,  and  that  by  him  a  message 
could  be  sent  directly  to  the  Emperor.  She  did  not  speak 
till  the  boat  had  passed  the  whole  length  of  the  palace 
and  was  turning  in  the  direction  of  the  Sweet  Waters. 

'That  astrologer/  she  said,  'do  you  remember  him? 
Why  has  he  never  come  again  ? ' 

Omobono  promised  to  send  for  him  the  very  next  day. 
After  that  there  was  silence  for  a  while,  and  the  skiff 
slipped  along  upstream,  till  the  secretary  spoke  again, 
to  correct  what  he  had  last  said. 

'He  had  better  not  come  to-morrow.  I  will  tell  him 
to  come  the  next  morning.' 


176  ABETHUSA 


CHAP. 


'Why?'  Zoe  asked,  in  some  surprise. 

1  To-morrow/  said  Omobono,  'Messer  Sebastian  Polo 
comes  to  dine  with  the  master.  There  will  be  confusion 
in  the  house.' 

' Confusion,  because  one  guest  comes  to  dinner?'  Zoe 
spoke  incredulously. 

'I  believe,'  said  Omobono  rather  timidly,  'that  he  will 
not  be  the  only  guest.' 

'He  brings  his  daughter  with  him,  then?'  Zoe  felt 
that  she  changed  colour  under  her  veil. 

'I  do  not  know,'  the  secretary  said  smoothly;  'but 
there  will  be  several  guests.' 

Zoe  turned  towards  him  impatiently. 

'  You  will  have  orders  to  keep  me  out  of  the  way  while 
they  are  in  the  house,'  she  said.  'I  shall  receive  through 
you  the  master's  commands  not  to  show  myself  at  my 
window ! ' 

'How  can  you  think  such  a  thing?'  cried  Omobono, 
protesting.  '  Rather  than  put  you  to  such  inconvenience 
I  am  sure  the  master  will  beg  his  guests  to  enter  by  the 
other  side  of  the  house. 

If  it  was  his  object  to  exasperate  her,  he  had  succeeded, 
but  if  he  expected  her  to  break  out  in  anger  he  was  mis 
taken.  She  was  too  proud,  and  she  already  regretted  the 
few  hasty  words  she  had  spoken.  Moreover,  her  anger 
told  her  something  that  surprised  her,  and  wounded  her 
self-respect.  She  understood  for  the  first  time  how 
jealous  she  was,  and  that  she  could  feel  no  such  jealousy 
if  she  were  not  in  love.  She  was  not  a  child,  and  but  for 
misfortune  she  would  have  been  married  at  least  two 


IX 


ARETHUSA  177 


years  by  this  time.  This  was  not  the  dreamy  and  slowly 
stealing  dawn  of  girlhood's  day;  her  sun  had  risen  in  a 
flash  amidst  angry  clouds,  as  he  does  in  India  in  mid-June, 
when  the  south-west  monsoon  is  just  going  to  break  and 
the  rain  is  very  near. 

When  Omobono  had  spoken  she  leaned  back  in  her 
seat  and  drew  the  folds  of  her  mantle  more  closely  round 
her,  as  if  to  separate  herself  from  him  more  completely, 
and  she  did  not  speak  again  for  a  long  time.  On  his  side, 
the  secretary  understood,  and  instead  of  feeling  rebuked 
by  her  silence,  he  was  pleased  with  himself  because  his 
curiosity  had  made  another  step  forward  in  the  land  of 
discovery. 

It  occurred  to  him  that  it  would  be  very  interesting  to 
bring  Zoe  and  Giustina  within  sight  of  each  other,  if  no 
nearer.  Zeno  had  not  said  that  his  guests  were  to  come 
by  land  instead  of  by  water;  the  secretary  had  only 
argued  that  he  would  request  them  to  do  so,  to  avoid  their 
seeing  Zoe  if  she  happened  to  be  at  her  window.  Omo 
bono  had  power  to  do  whatever  he  thought  necessary  for 
keeping  the  house  and  the  approach  to  it  in  repair  with 
out  consulting  any  one.  That  was  a  part  of  his  duty. 

It  was  usual  to  repair  the  road  in  the  spring.  Omo 
bono  chose  to  have  the  work  done  now,  sent  for  a  gang 
of  labourers,  and  gave  a  few  simple  orders.  Before  Zeno 
knew  what  was  going  on  the  way  to  the  main  entrance 
was  quite  impassable,  though  a  narrow  passage  had  been 
left  to  the  door  of  the  kitchen  for  the  servants  and  slaves. 
The  secretary  had  suddenly  discovered  that  the  road 
was  in  such  a  deplorable  condition  as  to  make  it  necessary 


178  ARETHUSA  CHAP. 

to  dig  it  out  to  the  depth  of  a  yard  here  and  there,  where 
the  soil  was  soft,  thus  making  a  series  of  pits,  over  which 
no  horse  could  pass. 

'What  in  the  world  possessed  you  to  do  this  now?7 
asked  Zeno,  with  annoyance,  'I  told  you  that  Messer 
Sebastian  and  his  daughter  were  coming  to  dine  with  me 
to-morrow,  as  well  as  other  friends.' 

'They  will  see  nothing,  sir,'  answered  the  secretary 
imperturbably.  'The  guests  always  come  by  water, 
they  dine  on  that  side  of  the  house,  and  they  go  away  by 
water.  How  could  they  see  the  road,  sir  ?  It  is  beyond 
the  court ! ' 

Zeno  did  not  choose  to  explain  that  he  had  especially 
begged  Polo  and  the  others  to  come  by  land,  and  he  now 
concealed  his  displeasure,  or  believed  that  he  did.  But 
when  Omobono  had  gone  to  his  own  room  Zeno  sent  for 
the  running  footmen  and  bade  them  go  to  each  of  the 
invited  guests  early  the  next  morning  to  say  that  the 
road  was  torn  up  and  that  they  must  be  good  enough  to 
come  in  their  boats. 

Then  he  went  upstairs,  for  he  had  not  seen  Zoe  all 
day,  and  it  pleased  him  to  sup  with  her.  As  soon  as  he 
entered  the  room  and  saw  her  he  felt  that  something 
was  wrong,  but  he  made  as  if  he  noticed  nothing,  and  sat 
down  in  his  usual  place. 

'We  will  have  supper  together/  he  said  in  a  cheerful 
tone,  settling  himself  in  his  big  chair,  and  rubbing  his 
hands,  like  a  man  who  has  finished  his  day's  work  and 
looks  forward  to  something  pleasant. 

As  a  matter  of  fact  he  had  done  nothing  in  particular, 


IX 


ABETHUSA  179 


and  had  set  himself  a  rather  disagreeable  task;  for  he 
did  not  wish  Messer  Sebastian  to  know  that  Zoe  or  any 
other  woman  was  in  the  house,  and  he  was  reduced  to  the 
necessity  of  telling  the  girl  not  to  show  herself.  She  was 
legally  his  chattel,  and  if  he  chose  he  might  lock  her  up 
in  a  room  on  the  other  side  of  the  house  for  a  few  hours,  or 
in  the  cellar.  He  told  himself  this ;  and  for  the  hundredth 
time  he  recalled  her  own  story  of  her  birth  and  bringing 
up,  which  was  logical  and  clear,  and  explained  both  her 
gentle  breeding  and  the  careful  education  she  had 
evidently  received.  But  logic  is  often  least  convincing 
when  it  is  most  unanswerable,  and  Zeno  remained  in  the 
belief  that  the  most  important  part  of  Zoe's  story  was 
still  a  secret. 

She  said  nothing  now  in  answer  to  his  announcement, 
but  she  beckoned  to  Yulia  to  bring  supper,  and  the  maid 
disappeared.  Being  out  of  temper  with  him  at  that 
moment,  she  was  asking  herself  how  she  could  possibly 
be  jealous  of  Giustina  Polo;  she  mentally  added  that 
she  would  no  more  think  of  sitting  at  the  window  to  see 
her  go  by,  than  of  looking  at  her  through  a  keyhole. 
Also,  she  wished  Zeno  would  sit  where  he  was  for  an 
hour  or  two,  and  not  utter  a  word,  so  that  she  might  show 
him  how  utterly  indifferent  she  was  to  his  presence,  and 
that  she  could  be  just  as  silent  as  he ;  and  women  much 
older  than  Zoe  have  felt  just  as  she  did  then. 

But  Zeno,  who  was  uncomfortable,  was  also  resolved 
to  be  cheerful  and  at  his  ease. 

'It  has  been  a  beautiful  day/  he  observed.  'I  hope 
you  had  a  pleasant  morning  on  the  water.' 


180  ARETHUSA  CHAP. 

'Thanks/  Zoe  answered,  and  said  no  more. 

This  was  not  encouraging,  but  Zeno  was  not  easily 
put  off. 

After  a  few  moments  he  tried  again. 

'  I  fear  you  do  not  find  my  secretary  very  amusing, '  he 
said. 

Zoe  was  on  the  point  of  asking  him  whether  he  him 
self  considered  Omobono  a  diverting  person,  but  she 
checked  herself  with  a  little  snort  of  indignation  which 
might  have  passed  for  a  laugh  without  a  smile.  Zeno 
glanced  at  her  profile,  raised  his  eyebrows,  and  said 
nothing  more  till  the  slave-girls  came  with  the  supper. 
While  they  brought  the  small  table  and  set  it  between  the 
two,  he  leaned  back  in  his  carved  chair,  crossed  one 
shapely  leg  over  the  other,  and  drummed  a  noiseless  tat 
too  with  the  end  of  his  fingers  on  his  knee,  the  picture  of 
unconcern.  Zoe  half  sat  and  half  lay  on  her  divan, 
apparently  scrutinising  the  nail  of  one  little  finger, 
pushing  it  and  rubbing  it  gently  with  the  thumb  of  the 
same  hand,  and  then  looking  at  it  again  as  if  she 
expected  to  observe  a  change  in  its  appearance  after 
being  touched. 

The  maids  placed  the  dishes  on  the  table  and  poured 
out  wine,  and  Zoe  began  to  eat  in  silence,  without  paying 
any  attention  to  Zeno.  That  is  one  way  of  showing 
indifference,  and  both  men  and  women  use  it,  yet  it  still 
remains  surprisingly  effective. 

1  What  is  the  matter  -with  you  ? '  Zeno  asked,  suddenly. 

Zoe  pretended  to  be  surprised  and  then  smiled 
coldly 


IX 


AEETHUSA  181 


'Oh!  you  mean,  because  I  am  hungry,  I  suppose.  I 
have  been  in  the  open  air.  It  must  be  that.' 

She  at  once  took  another  mouthful,  and  went  on  eating. 

'No/  answered  Zeno,  watching  her.  'I  did  not  mean 
that.' 

She  raised  her  beautiful  eyebrows,  just  as  he  had  raised 
his  a  few  minutes  earlier,  but  she  said  nothing  and 
seemed  very  busy  with  the  fish.  Carlo  took  another 
piece,  swallowed  some  of  it  deliberately,  and  drank  a 
little  before  he  leaned  back  in  his  chair  and  spoke  again. 

'Something  has  happened/  he  said  at  last  with  great 
conviction. 

'  Really  ? ?  Zoe  pretended  surprised  interest.  '  What  ? ' 
she  asked  with  affected  eagerness. 

'You  understand  me  perfectly/  he  replied  with  a 
shade  of  sternness,  for  he  was  growing  tired  of  her  mood. 

She  glanced  at  him  sideways,  as  a  woman  does  when  she 
hears  a  man's  tone  change  suddenly,  and  she  is  not  sure 
what  he  may  do  or  say  next. 

'You  do  not  make  it  easy  to  understand  you,  my  lord/ 
she  said  after  an  instant's  hesitation. 

'The  matter  is  simple  enough.  I  find  you  in  a  bad 
humour ' 

'Oh  no !  I  assure  you !'  Zoe  broke  in,  with  a  woman's 
diabolical  facility  in  interrupting  a  man  just  at  the  right 
moment  for  her  own  advantage.  '  I  was  never  in  a  better 
temper  in  my  life!' 

To  prove  this,  she  took  a  bird  and  some  salad,  and 
smiled  sweetly  at  her  plate,  leaving  him  to  prove  his 
assertion,  but  he  did  not  fall  into  the  trap. 


182  AKETHUSA 


CHAP. 


'Then  you  are  not  easy  to  live  with/  he  observed 
bluntly.  'I  am  glad  it  is  over.' 

'Do  take  some  of  this  salad !'  suggested  Zoe.  'It  is 
really  delicious ! ' 

'To-morrow/  Zeno  said,  without  paying  any  attention 
to  her  recommendation,  'I  shall  have  a  few  guests  at 
dinner.' 

'I  should  advise  you  to  give  them  a  salad  exactly  like 
this/  answered  Zoe.  'It  could  not  be  better !' 

'I  am  glad  you  like  it.  I  leave  the  fare  to  Omobono. 
It  is  about  another  matter  that  I  have  to  speak.' 

'You  need  not!'  Zoe  laughed  carelessly.  'I  know 
what  you  are  going  to  say.  Shall  I  save  you  the  trouble  ?' 

'I  do  not  see  how  you  can  guess  what  it  is ' 

'Oh,  easily !  You  do  not  wish  your  friends  to  see  me 
and  you  are  going  to  order  me  not  to  look  out  of  the 
window  when  they  come.  Is  that  it?' 

'Yes  —  more  or  less '    Zeno  was  surprised. 

'Yes,  that  is  it, '  laughed  Zoe.  '  But  it  is  quite  useless, 
sir.  I  shall  most  certainly  look  out  of  the  window,  un 
less  you  lock  me  up  in  another  room ;  and  as  for  your 
doing  that,  I  will  yield  only  to  force !' 

She  laughed  again,  much  amused  at  the  dilemma 
in  which  she  was  placing  him.  And  indeed,  he  did  not 
at  first  know  how  to  answer  her  declaration  of  inde 
pendence. 

'I  cannot  imagine  why  you  should  be  so  anxious  to 
show  yourself  to  people  you  do  not  know/  he  said.  'Or 
perhaps  you  fancy  they  may  be  friends  —  you  think 
that  if  they  recognise  you  —  but  that  is  absurd.  I  have 


ix  ARETHUSA  183 

told  you  that  if  you  have  friends  in  the  world  you  may 
go  to  them,  and  you  say  you  have  none.' 

Zoe's  tone  changed  again  and  became  girlishly  petu 
lant. 

'It  is  nothing  but  curiosity,  of  course !'  she  answered. 
'I  want  to  see  the  people  you  like.  Is  that  so  unnatural  ? 
In  a  whole  month  I  have  never  seen  one  of  your  friends — ' 

'I  have  not  many.  But  such  as  I  have,  I  value,  and 
I  do  not  care  to  let  them  get  a  mistaken  impression  of 
me,  or  of  the  way  I  live.' 

1  Especially  not  the  women  amongst  them/  Zoe  added, 
half  interrogatively. 

'There  are  none/  said  Zeno;  as  if  to  cut  short  the  sug 
gestion. 

'I  see.  You  do  not  want  your  men  friends  to  know 
that  there  are  women  living  in  your  house,  do  you? 
They  are  doubtless  all  grave  and  elderly  persons,  who 
would  be  much  shocked  and  grieved  to  learn  that  you 
have  bought  a  pretty  Greek  slave.  After  all,  you  came 
near  being  a  priest,  did  you  not  ?  They  naturally  asso 
ciate  you  in  their  minds  with  the  clergy,  and  for  some 
reason  or  other  you  think  it  just  as  well  for  you,  or  your 
affairs,  that  they  should !  I  have  always  heard  that  the 
Venetians  are  good  men  of  business ! ' 

'You  are  probably  the  only  person  alive  who  would 
risk  saying  that  to  me/  said  Zeno,  looking  at  her. 

'What  do  I  risk,  my  lord?'  asked  Zoe,  with  a  sort  of 
submissive  gravity. 

'My  anger/  Zeno  answered  curtly. 

'Yes,   sir,   I   understand.    Your   anger  —  but   pray, 


184  ARETHTJSA  CHAP. 

my  lord,  how  will  it  show  itself  ?  Shall  I  be  beaten,  or 
put  in  chains  and  starved,  or  turned  out  of  your  house 
and  sold  at  auction  ?  Those  are  the  usual  punishments 
for  disobedient  slaves,  are  they  not?' 

'I  am  not  a  Greek,'  said  Zeno,  annoyed. 

'If  you  were,'  answered  Zoe,  turning  her  face  from 
him  to  hide  her  smile,  '  you  would  probably  wish  to  tear 
out  my  tongue!* 

'Perhaps.' 

'It  might  be  a  wise  precaution!'  she  laughed. 

Zeno  looked  at  her  sharply  now,  for  the  words  sounded 
like  a  threat  that  was  only  half -playful.  She  knew 
enough  to  compass  his  destruction  at  the  hands  of 
Andronicus  if  she  betrayed  him,  but  he  did  not  believe 
she  would  do  that,  and  he  wondered  what  she  was  driv 
ing  at,  for  his  experience  of  women's  ways  was  small. 

'Listen,'  he  said,  dropping  his  voice  a  little.  'I  shall 
not  beat  you,  I  shall  not  starve  you,  and  I  shall  not  sell 
you.  But  if  you  try  to  betray  me,  I  will  kill  you.' 

She  raised  her  head  proudly  and  met  his  eyes  without 
fear. 

'I  would  spare  you  the  trouble  —  if  I  ever  betrayed 
you  or  any  one.' 

'It  is  one  thing  to  talk  of  death,  it  is  another  to  die !' 
Zeno  laughed  rather  incredulously,  as  he  quoted  the 
old  Italian  proverb. 

'I  have  seen  death,'  Zoe  answered,  in  a  different  tone. 
'I  know  what  it  is.' 

He  wondered  what  she  meant,  but  he  knew  it  was  use 
less  to  question  her,  and  for  a  few  moments  there  was 


ix  ARETHUSA  185 

silence.  The  lamps  burned  steadily  in  the  quiet  air, 
for  the  evenings  were  still  and  cool,  and  the  windows 
were  shut  and  curtained;  through  the  curtains  and  the 
shutters  the  song  of  a  passing  waterman  was  heard  in 
the  stillness,  a  long-drawn,  plaintive  melody  in  the 
Lydian  Mode,  familiar  to  Zoe's  ears  since  she  had  been 
a  child. 

But  Zeno  saw  how  intensely  she  listened  to  the  words. 
She  clasped  her  hands  tightly  over  her  knee,  and  bent 
forwards  to  catch  each  note  and  syllable. 

The  waters  are  blue  as  the  eyes  of  the  Emperor's  daughter, 

In  the  crystal  pools  of  her  eyes  there  are  salt  tears. 

The  water  is  both  salt  and  fresh. 

Over  the  water  to  my  love,  this  night,  over  the  water  — 

The  voice  died  away,  and  Zoe  no  longer  heard  the 
words  distinctly ;  presently  she  could  not  hear  the  voice 
at  all,  yet  she  strained  her  ears  for  a  few  seconds  longer. 
The  boat  must  have  passed,  on  its  way  down  to  the 
Bosphorus. 

For  a  whole  month  she  had  sat  in  the  same  room  at 
that  hour,  and  many  times  already  she  had  heard  men 
singing  in  their  boats,  sometimes  to  that  same  ancient 
Lydian  Mode,  but  never  once  had  they  pronounced  those 
meaning  words.  Often  and  often  again  she  had  passed 
within  sight  of  the  Amena  tower,  but  not  until  to-day 
had  she  seen  a  solitary  fisherman  sitting  at  the  pier's 
edge  below  it,  and  he  had  waved  his  rod  thrice  over 
the  water  when  she  passed  by.  And  now  in  a  flash 
of  intuition  she  guessed  that  the  singer  was  the  fisher 
man  and  none  other,  and  that  the  song  was  for  her,  and 


186  AEBTHUSA  CHAP. 

for  no  one  else ;  and  it  was  a  signal  which  she  could  under 
stand  and  should  answer  if  she  could ;  and  there  was  but 
one  way  of  answering,  and  that  was  to  show  some  light. 

'It  is  hot/  she  said,  beckoning  to  Yulia.  'Open  the 
large  window  wide  for  a  few  minutes  and  let  in  the  fresh 
air.' 

Yulia  obeyed  quickly.    The  night  was  very  dark. 

'Besides/  Zoe  continued  carelessly,  as  Zeno  looked  at 
her,  '  that  fellow  has  a  fine  voice,  and  we  shall  still  hear 
him/ 

And  indeed,  as  the  window  was  opened,  the  song  was 
heard  again,  at  some  distance  — 

Over  the  water  to  my  love,  she   is  awake  to-night,  I  see  her 

eyes  amongst  the  stars. 
Love,  I  am  here  in  the  dark,  but  to-morrow  I  shall  see  the  day 

in  your  face, 
I  shall  see  the  noon  in  your  eyes,  I  shall  look  upon  the  sun  in 

your  hair. 
Over  the  water,  the  blue  water,  the  water  both  salt  and  fresh 

Once  more  the  voice  died  away  and  the  faint  plash  of 
oars  told  Zoe  that  the  message  was  all  delivered,  and  that 
Gorlias  was  gone,  on  his  way  downstream. 

Zeno,  whose  maternal  tongue  was  not  Greek,  could  not 
be  supposed  to  understand  much  of  the  song,  for  unfa 
miliar  words  sung  to  such  ancient  melodies  can  only  be 
caught  by  native-born  ears,  and  sharp  ones  at  that. 
At  a  signal  from  Zoe,  the  maid  shut  the  window  again, 
and  drew  the  curtains. 

'Could  you  understand  the  fellow?'  Zeno  asked,  glad 
in  reality  that  the  conversation  had  been  interrupted. 


IX 


ABETHUSA  187 


1  Yes,'  Zoe  answered  lightly,  'as  you  would  understand 
an  Italian  fisherman,  I  suppose.  The  man  gave  you  a 
message,  my  lord.  Shall  I  interpret  what  he  said?' 

'Can  you?'    He  laughed  a  little. 

'  He  tells  you  that  if  you  will  not  try  to  force  Arethusa 
to  keep  away  from  the  window  to-morrow,  she  will 
probably  do  as  you  wish  —  probably ! ' 

'Your  friend  must  have  good  ears!'  Zeno  smiled. 
'But  then  he  only  said  "probably."  That  is  not  a 
promise.' 

'Why  should  you  trust  the  promise  of  a  poor  slave, 
sir?  You  would  not  believe  a  lady  of  Constantinople 
in  the  same  case  if  she  took  oath  on  the  four  Gospels ! 
Imagine  any  woman  missing  a  chance  of  looking  at 
another  about  whom  she  is  curious ! ' 

'Who  is  the  other?'  asked  Zeno,  not  much  pleased. 

'She  is  young,  and  as  fresh  as  spring.  Her  hair  is 
like  that  of  all  the  Venetian  ladies ' 

'Since  you  have  seen  her,  why  are  you  so  anxious  to 
see  her  again?' 

'Ah!  You  see!  It  is  she!  I  knew  it!  She  is 
coming  to-morrow  with  her  father.' 

'  Well  ?    If  she  is,  what  of  it  ? '  asked  Zeno,  impatiently. 

'Nothing.  Since  you  admit  that  it  is  she,  I  do  not 
care  to  see  her  at  all.  I  will  be  good  and  you  need  not 
lock  me  up.' 

Thereupon  she  bent  towards  the  table  and  began  to 
eat  again,  daintily,  but  as  if  she  were  still  hungry.  Zeno 
watched  her  in  silence  for  some  time,  conscious  that  of 
all  women  he  had  ever  seen  none  had  so  easily  touched 


188  ARETHUSA 


CHAP. 


him,  none  had  played  upon  his  moods  as  she  did,  making 
him  impatient,  uneasy,  angry,  and  forgiving  by  turns, 
within  a  quarter  of  an  hour.  A  few  minutes  ago  he  had 
been  so  exasperated  that  he  had  rudely  longed  to  box 
her  little  ears;  and  now  he  felt  much  more  inclined  to 
kiss  her,  and  did  not  care  to  think  how  very  easy  and 
wholly  lawful  it  was  for  him  to  do  so.  That  was  one  of 
his  many  dilemmas ;  if  he  spoke  to  her  as  his  equal  she 
told  him  she  was  a  slave,  but  when  he  treated  her  ever 
so  little  as  if  she  were  one,  her  proud  little  head  went 
up,  and  she  looked  like  an  empress. 

She  had  never  been  so  much  like  one  as  to-night,  he 
thought,  though  there  was  nothing  very  imperial  in 
the  action  of  eating  a  very  sticky  strawberry,  drawn  up 
out  of  thick  syrup  with  a  forked  silver  pin.  She  did  it 
with  grace,  no  doubt,  twisting  the  pin  dexterously,  so 
that  the  big  drop  of  syrup  spread  all  round  the  berry 
just  at  the  right  moment,  and  it  never  dripped.  Zeno 
had  often  seen  the  wife  of  the  Emperor  Charles  eating 
stewed  prunes  with  her  fingers,  which  was  not  neat  or 
pleasant  to  see,  though  it  might  be  imperial,  since  she  was 
a  genuine  empress.  But  it  was  neither  Zoe's  grace  nor 
her  delicate  ways  that  pleased  him  and  puzzled  him 
most;  the  mystery  lay  rather  in  the  fearless  tone  of 
her  voice  and  the  proud  carriage  of  her  head  when  she 
was  offended,  in  the  flashing  answer  of  her  brave  eyes 
and  the  noble  curve  of  her  tender  mouth;  for  these  are 
things  given,  not  learnt,  and  if  they  could  be  taught  at 
all,  thought  Zeno,  they  would  not  be  taught  to  a  slave. 

He  let  his  head  rest  against  the  back  of  his  chair  and 


ix  ARETHUSA  189 

wished  many  things,  rather  incoherently.  For  once  in 
his  life  he  felt  inclined  for  anything  rather  than  action  or 
danger,  or  any  sudden  change;  and  in  the  detestable 
natural  contradiction  of  duty  and  inclination  it  chanced 
that  on  that  night,  of  all  nights,  he  could  not  stay 
where  he  was  to  idle  away  two  or  three  hours  in  careless 
talk,  till  it  should  be  time  to  go  downstairs  and  sleep. 
The  habit  of  spending  his  evenings  in  that  way  had 
grown  upon  him  during  the  past  month  more  than  he 
realised;  but  to-night  he  knew  that  he  must  break 
through  it,  and  perhaps  to-morrow,  too,  and  for  long 
afterwards,  if  not  for  ever.  That  was  one  reason  why 
it  had  annoyed  him  to  find  Zoe  out  of  temper. 

He  rose  with  an  effort,  and  with  something  like  a 
sigh. 

'I  must  be  going/  he  said,  standing  beside  the  divan. 
'Good-night/ 

Zoe  had  looked  up  in  surprise  when  he  left  his  seat, 
and  now  her  face  fell. 

'Already?    Must  you  go  already?'  she  asked. 

'Yes.    I  have  to  keep  an  appointment.    Good-night/ 

'Good-night,  Messer  Carlo,'  answered  Zoe  softly  and 
a  little  sadly. 

She  had  never  before  addressed  him  in  that  way,  as 
an  equal  and  a  Venetian  would  have  done,  and  the  ex 
pression,  with  the  tone  in  which  it  was  uttered,  arrested 
his  attention  and  stopped  him  when  he  was  in  the  act 
of  turning  away.  He  said  nothing,  but  there  was  a 
question  in  his  look. 

'I  am  sorry  that  I  made  you  angry,'  she  said,  and  she 


190  ARETHUSA 


CHAP. 


turned  her  face  up  to  him  with  one  of  those  half -pathetic, 
hesitating  little  smiles  that  ask  forgiveness  of  a  man 
and  invariably  get  it,  unless  he  is  a  brute. 

'I  am  sorry  that  I  let  you  see  I  was  annoyed/  he  an 
swered  simply. 

'If  I  had  not  been  so  foolish,  you  would  not  go  away 
so  early!' 

Her  tone  was  contrite  and  regretfully  thoughtful,  as 
if  the  explanation  were  irrefutable  but  humiliating. 
Eve  was,  on  the  whole,  a  good  woman,  and  is  believed 
to  be  in  Paradise ;  yet  with  the  slight  previous  training 
of  a  few  minutes'  conversation  with  the  serpent  she  was 
an  accomplished  temptress,  and  her  rustic  taste  for 
apples  has  sent  untold  millions  down  into  unquenchable 
fire.  It  was  a  mere  coincidence  that  Eve  should  have 
been  always  called  Zoe  in  the  early  Greek  translations  of 
Genesis,  and  that  Zoe  Rhangabe*  should  have  inherited 
a  dangerous  resemblance  to  the  first  beautiful  —  and 
enterprising  —  mother  of  men. 

'I  would  stay  if  I  could/  Zeno  said.  'But  indeed  I 
have  an  appointment,  and  I  must  go.7 

'Is  it  very  important,  very  —  very?' 

Zeno  smiled  at  her  now,  but  did  not  answer  at  once. 
Instead,  he  walked  to  the  window,  opened  the  shutters 
again,  and  looked  out.  The  night  was  very  dark.  Here 
and  there  little  lights  twinkled  in  the  houses  of  Pera, 
and  those  that  were  near  the  water's  edge  made  tiny 
paths  over  the  black  stream.  After  his  eyes  had  grown 
used  to  the  gloom  Zeno  could  make  out  that  there  was 
a  boat  near  the  marble  steps,  and  a  very  soft  sound  of 


ix  ARETHUSA  191 

oars  moving  in  the  water  told  him  that  the  boatman 
was  paddling  gently  to  keep  his  position  against  the  slow 
current.  Zeno  shut  the  window  again  and  turned  back 
to  Zoe. 

'Yes,'  he  said,  answering  her  last  speech  after  the 
interval,  'it  is  very  important.  If  it  were  not,  I  would 
not  go  out  to-night.' 

He  was  going  out  of  the  house,  then.  She  knew  that 
he  rarely  did  so  after  dark,  and  she  could  not  help  con 
necting  his  going  with  the  invitation  he  had  given  to 
Polo  and  his  daughter  for  the  next  day.  Zoe's  imagina 
tion  instantly  spun  a  thread  across  the  chasms  of  im 
probability,  and  ran  along  the  fairy  bridge  to  the  regions 
of  the  impossible  beyond.  He  was  to  be  betrothed  to 
Giustina  to-morrow,  he  was  going  now  to  settle  some 
urgent  matter  of  business  connected  with  the  marriage- 
contract  ;  or  he  was  betrothed  already ;  yes,  and  he  was 
to  be  married  in  the  morning  and  would  bring  his  bride 
home ;  Zoe,  in  her  lonely  room  upstairs,  would  hear  the 
noisy  feasting  of  the  wedding-guests  below 

When  the  thread  broke,  leaving  her  in  the  unreality, 
her  lip  quivered,  and  she  was  a  little  pale.  Zeno  was 
standing  beside  her,  holding  her  hand. 

'Good-night,  Arethusa,'  he  said  in  a  tone  that  fright 
ened  her. 

The  words  sounded  like  'good-bye,'  for  that  was  what 
they  might  mean ;  he  knew  it,  and  she  guessed  it. 

'You  are  going  away!'  she  cried,  springing  to  her 
feet  and  slipping  her  hand  from  his  to  catch  his 
wrist. 


192  ARETHUSA 


CHAP. 


'Not  if  I  can  help  it/  he  answered.  'But  you  may 
not  see  me  to-morrow/ 

'Not  in  the  evening?'  she  asked  in  great  anxiety. 
'Not  even  after  they  are  gone?' 

'I  cannot  tell/  he  replied  gravely.  'Perhaps 
not.' 

She  dropped  his  wrist  and  turned  from  him. 

'You  are  going  to  be  married/  she  said  in  a  low  voice. 
'I  was  sure  of  it.' 

'No!'  he  answered  with  emphasis.     'Not  that!' 

She  turned  to  him  again;  it  did  not  occur  to  her  to 
doubt  his  word,  and  her  eyes  asked  him  the  next  ques 
tion  with  eager  anxiety,  but  he  would  not  answer.  He 
only  repeated  the  three  words,  very  tenderly  and  softly  — 

'Good-night  —  Arethusa !' 

She  knew  it  was  good-bye,  though  he  would  not  say 
it;  she  was  not  guessing  his  meaning  now.  But  she 
was  proud.  He  should  not  see  how  hurt  she  was. 

'Good-night/  she  answered.  'If  you  are  going  away 
—  then,  good-bye.' 

Her  voice  almost  broke,  but  she  pressed  her  lips 
tight  together  when  the  last  word  had  passed  them,  and 
though  the  tears  seemed  to  be  burning  her  brain  she 
would  not  shed  them  while  his  eyes  were  on  her. 

'God  keep  you/  he  said,  as  one  says  who  goes  on  a 
long  journey. 

Again  he  was  turning  from  her,  not  meaning  to  look 
back ;  but  it  was  more  than  she  could  bear.  In  an  in 
ward  tempest  of  fear  and  pain  she  had  been  taught 
suddenly  that  she  truly  loved  him  more  than  her  soul, 


IX 


ARETHUSA  193 


and  in  the  same  instant  he  was  leaving  her  for  a  long  time, 
perhaps  for  ever.  She  could  not  bear  it,  and  her  pride 
broke  down.  She  caught  his  hand  as  he  turned  to  go 
and  held  it  fast. 

'Take  me  with  you !'  she  cried.  'Oh,  do  not  go  away 
and  leave  me  behind!' 

A  silence  of  three  seconds. 

'I  will  come  back/  he  said.  ' If  I  am  alive,  I  will 
come  back.' 

1  You  are  going  into  danger !'  Her  hand  tightened  on 
his,  and  she  grew  paler  still. 

He  would  not  answer,  but  he  patted  her  wrist  kindly, 
trying  to  soothe  her  anxiety.  He  seemed  quiet  enough 
at  that  moment,  but  he  felt  the  slow,  full  beat  of  his  own 
heart  and  the  rush  of  the  swelling  pulse  in  his  throat. 
He  had  not  guessed  before  to-night  that  she  loved  him ; 
he  was  too  simple,  and  far  too  sure  that  he  himself  could 
not  love  a  slave.  Even  now  he  did  not  like  to  own  it, 
but  he  knew  that  the  hand  she  held  was  not  passive; 
it  pressed  hers  tighter  in  return,  and  drew  it  to  him 
instead  of  pushing  it  away,  till  at  last  it  was  close  to  his 
breast. 

'Oh,  let  me  go  with  you,  take  me  with  you!'  she  re 
peated,  beseeching  with  all  her  heart. 

He  was  not  thinking  of  danger  now,  he  had  forgotten 
it  so  far  that  he  scarcely  paid  attention  to  her  words  or 
to  her  passionate  entreaty.  Words  had  lost  sense  and 
value,  as  they  do  in  battle,  and  the  fire  ran  along  his 
arm  to  her  hand.  It  had  been  cold;  it  was  hot  now, 

and  throbbed  strangely. 
o 


194  ARETHUSA  CHAP. 

Then  he  dropped  it  and  took  her  suddenly  by  her 
small  throat,  almost  violently,  and  turned  her  face  up 
to  his;  but  she  was  not  frightened,  and  she  smiled  in 
his  grasp. 

'I  did  not  mean  to  love  you!' 

He  still  held  her  as  he  spoke;  she  put  up  her  hands 
together  and  took  his  wrists,  but  not  to  free  herself; 
instead,  she  pressed  his  hold  closer  upon  her  throat, 
as  if  to  make  him  choke  her. 

'  I  wish  you  would  kill  me  now ! '  she  cried,  in  a  trem 
bling,  happy  little  voice. 

He  laughed  low,  and  shook  her  the  least  bit,  as  a 
strong  man  shakes  a  child  in  play,  but  her  eyes  drew  him 
to  her  more  and  more. 

'It  would  be  so  easy  now/  she  almost  whispered, 
'and  I  should  be  so  happy !' 

Then  they  kissed;  and  as  their  lips  touched  they 
closed  their  eyes,  for  they  were  too  near  to  see  each  other 
any  longer.  Her  head  sank  back  from  his  upon  his  arm, 
for  she  was  almost  fainting,  and  he  laid  his  palm  gently 
on  her  forehead  and  pushed  away  her  hair,  and  looked 
at  her  long. 

'I  had  not  meant  to  love  you,'  he  said  again. 

Her  lips  were  still  parted,  tender  as  rose-leaves  at 
dewfall,  and  her  eyes  glistened  as  she  opened  them  at 
the  sound  of  his  voice. 

'Are  you  sorry?'  she  asked  faintly. 

He  kissed  the  question  from  her  lips,  and  her  right 
hand  went  up  to  his  brown  throat  and  round  it,  and 
drew  him,  to  press  the  kiss  closer ;  and  then  it  held  him 


'  I  did  not  mean  to  love  you ! 


ix  ARETHUSA  195 

down  while  she  moved  her  head  till  she  could  whisper 
in  his  ear:  — 

'It  was  only  because  you  were  angry/  she  said.  '  You 
are  not  really  going  out  to-night !  Tell  me  you  are  not ! ' 

He  would  not  answer  at  first,  and  he  tried  to  kiss  her 
again,  but  she  would  not  let  him,  and  she  pushed  him 
away  till  she  could  see  his  face.  He  met  her  eyes  frankly, 
but  he  shook  his  head. 

'It  must  be  to-night,  and  no  other  night/  he  said 
gravely.  'I  have  made  an  appointment,  and  I  have 
given  my  word.  I  cannot  break  it,  but  I  shall  come 
back.' 

She  slipped  from  his  hold,  and  sat  down  on  the  broad 
divan,  against  the  cushions. 

'You  are  going  into  danger/  she  said.  'You  may 
not  come  back.  You  told  me  so.' 

He  tried  to  laugh,  and  answered  in  a  careless  tone :  — 

'I  have  come  back  from  far  more  dangerous  expedi 
tions.  Besides,  I  have  guests  to-morrow  —  that  is  a 
good  reason  for  not  being  killed ! ' 

He  stood  beside  her,  one  hand  half-thrust  into  his 
loose  belt.  She  took  the  other,  which  hung  down,  and 
looked  up  to  him,  still  pleading. 

'  Please,  please  do  not  go  to-night ! ' 

Still  he  shook  his  head ;  nothing  could  move  him,  and 
he  would  go.  A  piteous  look  came  into  her  eyes  while 
they  appealed  to  his  in  vain,  and  suddenly  she  dropped 
his  hand  and  buried  her  face  in  the  soft  leathern  pillow. 

'  You  had  made  me  forget  that  I  am  only  a  slave ! ' 
she  cried. 


196  ARETHU8A  CHAP. 

The  cushion  muffled  her  voice,  and  the  sentence  was 
broken  by  a  sob,  though  no  tears  came  with  it. 

1 1  would  go  to-night,  though  my  own  mother  begged 
me  to  stay/  Zeno  answered. 

Zoe  turned  her  head  without  lifting  it,  and  looked  up 
at  him  sideways. 

'Then  much  depends  on  your  going,'  she  said,  with  a 
question  in  her  tone.  'If  it  were  only  for  yourself,  for 
your  pleasure,  or  your  fortune,  you  would  not  refuse 
your  own  mother ! ' 

Zeno  turned  and  began  to  walk  up  and  down  the 
room,  but  he  said  nothing  in  reply.  A  thought  began 
to  dawn  in  her  mind. 

'But  if  it  were  for  your  country  —  for  Venice ' 

He  glanced  sharply  at  her  as  he  turned  back  towards 
her  in  his  walk,  and  he  slackened  his  pace.  Zoe  waited 
a  moment  before  she  spoke  again,  looked  down,  thought 
fully  pinched  the  folds  of  silk  on  her  knee,  and  looked  up 
suddenly  again  as  if  an  idea  had  struck  her. 

'And  though  I  am  only  your  bought  slave,'  she  said, 
'  I  would  not  hinder  you  then.  I  mean,  I  would  not  even 
try  to  keep  you  from  running  into  danger  —  for  Venice ! ' 

She  held  her  head  up  proudly  now,  and  the  last  words 
rang  out  in  a  tone  that  went  to  the  man's  heart.  He 
was  not  far  from  her  when  she  spoke  them.  The  last 
syllable  had  not  died  away  on  the  quiet  air  and  he  al 
ready  held  her  up  in  his  arms,  lifted  clear  from  the  floor, 
and  his  kisses  were  raining  on  her  lips,  and  on  her  eyes, 
and  her  hair.  She  laughed  low  at  the  storm  she  had 
raised. 


IX 


ABETHUSA  197 


'I  love  you!7  he  whispered  again  and  again  softly, 
roughly,  and  triumphantly  by  turns. 

She  loved  him  too,  and  quite  as  passionately  just  then; 
every  kiss  woke  a  deep  and  delicious  thrill  that  made 
her  whole  body  quiver  with  delight,  and  each  oft-re 
peated  syllable  of  the  three  whispered  words  rang  like 
a  silver  trumpet-note  in  her  heart.  But  for  all  that  her 
thoughts  raced  on,  already  following  him  in  the  coming 
hours. 

With  every  woman,  to  love  a  man  is  to  feel  that  she 
must  positively  know  just  where  he  is  going  as  soon  as 
he  is  out  of  her  sight.  If  it  were  possible,  he  should  never 
leave  the  house  without  a  ticket-of-leave  and  a  police 
man,  followed  by  a  detective  to  watch  both ;  but  that  a 
man  should  assert  any  corresponding  right  to  watch  the 
dear  object  of  his  affections  throws  her  into  a  paroxysm 
of  fury;  and  it  is  hard  to  decide  which  woman  most 
resents  being  spied  upon,  the  angel  of  light,  the  siren 
that  walketh  in  darkness,  or  the  semi-virginal 
flirt. 

Zoe  really  loved  Zeno  more  truly  at  that  moment, 
because  the  glorious  tempest  of  kisses  her  speech  had 
called  down  upon  her  willing  little  head  brought  with  it 
the  certainty  that  he  was  not  going  to  spend  the  rest  of 
the  evening  at  the  house  of  Sebastian  Polo.  This,  at 
least,  is  how  it  strikes  the  story-teller  in  the  bazaar; 
but  the  truth  is  that  no  man  ever  really  understood  any 
woman.  It  is  uncertain  whether  any  one  woman  under 
stands  any  other  woman;  it  is  doubtful  whether  any 
woman  understands  her  own  nature;  but  one  thing  is 


198  ARETHUSA 


CHAP. 


sure,  beyond  question  —  every  woman  who  loves  a  man 
believes,  or  tells  him,  that  he  helps  her  to  understand 
herself.  This  shows  us  that  men  are  not  altogether 
useless. 

Yet,  to^do  Zoe  justice,  there  was  one  other  element 
in  her  joy.  She  had  waited  long  to  learn  that  Zeno 
meant  to  free  Johannes  if  it  could  be  done,  and  he  had 
met  all  her  questions  with  answers  that  told  her  nothing ; 
she  was  convinced  that  he  did  not  even  know  the  pass 
words  of  those  who  called  themselves  conspirators, 
but  who  had  done  nothing  in  two  years  beyond  inventing 
a  few  signs  and  syllables  by  which  to  recognise  each  other. 
Whether  he  knew  them  or  not,  he  was  ready  to  act  at 
last,  and  the  deed  on  which  hung  the  destinies  of  Con 
stantinople  was  to  be  attempted  that  very  night.  Before 
dawn  Michael  Rhangabe's  death  might  be  avenged,  and 
Kyria  Agatha's  wrongs  with  Zoe's  own. 

'I  want  to  help  you,'  she  said,  when  he  let  her  speak. 
'Tell  me  how  you  are  going  to  do  it.' 

'With  a  boat  and  a  rope,'  he  answered. 

'  Take  me !  I  will  sit  quite  still  in  the  bottom.  I 
will  watch;  no  one  has  better  eyes  or  ears  than  I.' 

'More  beautiful  you  mean!' 

He  shut  her  eyes  with  his  lips  and  kissed  the  lobe  of 
one  little  ear.  But  she  moved  impatiently  in  his  arms, 
with  a  small  laugh  that  meant  many  things  —  that  she 
was  happy,  and  that  she  loved  him,  but  that  a  kiss  was 
no  answer  to  what  she  had  just  said,  and  that  he  must  not 
kiss  her  again  till  he  had  replied  in  words. 

'  Take  me  ! '  she  repeated. 


IX 


ARETHUSA  199 


'This  is  man's  work/  he  answered.  ' Besides,  it  is 
the  work  of  one  man  only,  and  no  more.' 

'Some  one  must  watch  below,'  Zoe  suggested. 

'There  is  the  man  in  the  boat.  But  watching  is  use 
less.  If  any  one  surprises  us  in  the  tower,  I  can  get 
away;  but  if  I  am  caught  by  an  enemy  from  the  water 
the  game  is  up.  That  is  the  only  danger.' 

'That  is  the  only  danger,'  Zoe  repeated,  more  to  her 
self  than  for  him. 

He  saw  that  she  had  understood  now,  and  that  she 
would  not  try  to  keep  him  longer,  nor  again  beg  to  be 
taken.  She  went  with  him  to  the  door  of  the  vestibule 
without  calling  the  maids,  and  she  parted  from  him  there, 
very  quietly. 

'God  speed  you!'  she  said,  for  good-bye. 

When  he  reached  the  outer  entrance  and  looked  back 
once  more,  she  was  already  gone  within,  and  the  quiet 
lamplight  fell  across  the  folds  of  the  heavy  curtain. 


CHAPTER   X 

ZENO  left  his  house  noiselessly  half  an  hour  later,  after 
changing  his  clothes.  He  was  now  lightly  clad  in  dark 
hose  and  a  soft  deerskin  doublet  with  tight  sleeves, 
a  close-fitting  woollen  skull-cap  covered  his  head,  and 
he  had  no  weapon  but  one  good  knife  of  which  the  sheath 
was  fastened  to  the  back  of  his  belt,  as  a  sailor  carries 
it  when  he  goes  aloft  to  work  on  rigging.  The  night  was 
cool,  and  he  had  a  wide  cloak  over  his  shoulders,  ready 
to  drop  in  an  instant  if  necessary. 

It  was  intensely  dark  as  he  came  out,  and  after  being 
in  the  light  he  could  hardly  see  the  white  marble  steps 
of  the  landing.  He  almost  lost  his  balance  at  the  last 
one,  and  when  he  stepped  quickly  towards  the  boat,  to 
save  himself,  he  could  not  see  it  at  all,  and  was  consider 
ably  relieved  to  find  himself  in  the  stern  sheets  instead 
of  in  the  water. 

'GorliasF  he  whispered,  leaning  forwards. 

'Yes!'    answered    the    astrologer-fisherman. 

The  light  skiff  shot  out  into  the  darkness,  away  from 
the  shore,  instead  of  heading  directly  for  Blachernse. 
After  a  few  minutes  Gorlias  rested  on  his  oars.  Zeno  had 
grown  used  to  the  gloom  and  could  now  see  him  quite 
distinctly.  Both  men  peered  about  them  and  listened 
for  the  sound  of  other  oars,  but  there  was  nothing; 
they  were  alone  on  the  water. 

200 


CHAP,  x  ARETHUSA  201 

'Is  everything  ready?'  Zeno  asked  in  a  low  tone. 

1  Everything.  At  the  signal  over  eight  hundred  men 
will  be  before  Blachernse  in  a  few  minutes.  There  are 
fifty  ladders  in  the  ruined  houses  by  the  wall  of  the  city. 
The  money  has  had  an  excellent  effect  on  the  guard, 
for  most  of  them  were  drunk  this  evening,  and  are  asleep 
now.  In  the  tower,  the  captain  is  asleep  too,  for  his 
wife  showed  the  red  light  an  hour  ago.  She  took  up 
the  package  of  opium  last  night  by  the  thread.' 

'And  Johannes  himself?    Is  he  ready?' 

1  He  is  timid,  but  he  will  risk  his  life  to  get  out  of  the 
tower.  You  may  be  sure  of  that ! ' 

'Have  you  everything  we  need?  The  fishing-line, 
the  tail-block,  and  the  two  ropes?  And  the  basket? 
Is  everything  ready  in  the  bows,  there?' 

'Everything,  just  as  you  ordered  it,  and  the  rope  clear 
to  pay  out.' 

'Give  way,  then.' 

'In  the  name  of  God,'  said  Gorlias,  as  he  dipped  his 
oars  again. 

'Amen,'  answered  Zeno  quietly. 

The  oars  were  muffled  with  rags  at  the  thole-pins, 
and  Gorlias  was  an  accomplished  oarsman.  He  dipped 
the  blades  into  the  stream  so  gently  that  there  was  hardly 
a  ripple,  and  he  pulled  them  through  with  long,  steady 
strokes,  keeping  the  boat  on  its  course  by  the  scattered 
lights  of  the  city. 

Zeno  watched  the  lights,  too,  leaning  back  in  the  stern, 
and  turning  over  the  last  details  of  his  plan.  Every 
thing  depended  on  getting  the  imprisoned  man  out  of 


202  ARETHUSA  CHAP. 

the  Amena  tower  at  once,  and  he  believed  he  could  do 
that  without  much  difficulty.  At  first  sight  it  might 
seem  madness  to  attempt  a  revolution  with  only  eight 
hundred  men  to  bear  arms  in  the  cause,  against  ten  or 
fifteen  thousand,  but  the  Venetian  knew  what  sort  of 
men  they  were,  and  how  profoundly  Andronicus  was 
hated  by  all  the  army  except  his  body-guard.  The 
latter  would  fight,  no  doubt,  and  perhaps  die  to  a  man, 
for  they  had  everything  to  lose,  and  expected  no  quar 
ter;  but  for  the  next  two  hours  most  of  them  would  be 
still  helplessly  asleep  after  their  potations,  and  if  they 
woke  at  all  they  would  hardly  be  in  a  condition  to  de 
fend  themselves.  Money  had  been  distributed  to  them 
without  knowledge  of  their  officers,  purporting  to  be 
sent  to  them  from  Sultan  Amurad,  now  in  Asia  Minor. 
It  had  pleased  the  Turk  more  than  once  to  keep  the  guards 
in  a  good  humour  towards  him,  and  the  soldiers  were  not 
surprised.  Besides,  they  cared  very  little  whence  money 
came,  provided  it  got  into  their  hands,  and  could 
be  spent  in  drink,  for  they  were  not  sober  Greeks  or 
Italians ;  most  of  them  were  wild  barbarians,  who  would 
rather  drink  than  eat,  and  rather  fight  than  drink,  as 
the  saying  goes. 

For  nearly  twenty  minutes  Gorlias  pulled  steadily 
upstream.  Then  he  slackened  speed,  and  brought  the 
boat  slowly  to  the  foot  of  the  tower. 

The  windows  were  all  dark  now,  and  the  great  mass 
towered  up  into  the  night  till  the  top  was  lost  in  the 
black  sky.  During  the  hours  Gorlias  had  spent  in  fish 
ing  from  the  pier  he  had  succeeded  in  wedging  a  stout 


x  ARETHUSA  203 

oak  peg  between  the  stones;  he  found  it  at  once  in  the 
dark,  got  out  and  made  the  boat  fast  to  it  by  the  painter. 
His  bare  feet  clung  to  the  sloping  surface  like  a  fly's 
to  a  smooth  wall ;  he  pulled  the  boat  alongside  the  pier, 
holding  it  by  the  gunwale,  and  held  up  his  other  hand  to 
help  Zeno.  But  the  Venetian  was  in  no  need  of  that, 
and  was  standing  beside  his  companion  in  an  instant. 
It  was  only  then,  a  whole  second  after  the  fact,  that  he 
knew  he  had  stepped  upon  something  oddly  soft  and  at 
the  same  time  elastic  and  resisting,  that  lay  amidships 
in  the  bottom  of  the  boat,  covered  with  canvas.  The 
quick  recollection  was  that  of  having  unconsciously 
placed  one  foot  on  a  human  body  when  getting  out.  He 
had  taken  off  his  shoes,  but  the  cloth  soles  of  his  hose 
were  thick,  and  he  could  not  feel  sure  of  what  he  had 
touched.  Besides,  he  had  no  time  to  lose  in  speculating 
as  to  what  Gorlias  might  have  in  the  skiff  besides  his 
lines  and  his  coil  of  rope. 

Gorlias  now  got  the  end  of  the  fishing-line  ashore, 
and  took  it  in  his  teeth  in  order  to  climb  up  the  inclined 
plane  of  the  pier  on  his  hands  and  feet,  ape-fashion.  In 
a  few  seconds  he  had  found  the  end  of  a  string  that  hung 
down  from  the  blackness  above,  with  a  small  stone  tied 
to  it  to  keep  it  from  being  blown  adrift.  To  this  string 
he  bent  the  fishing-line.  Until  this  was  done  neither 
of  the  men  had  made  the  least  sound  that  could  possibly 
be  heard  above,  but  now  Gorlias  gave  a  signal.  It  was 
the  cry  of  the  beautiful  little  owl  th&t  haunts  ruined 
houses  in  Italy  and  the  East,  one  soft  and  musical  note, 
repeated  at  short  and  regular  intervals.  The  bird 


204  ARETHUSA 


CHAP. 


always  gives  it  thus,  but  for  the  signal  Gorlias  whistled 
it  twice  each  time,  instead  of  once.  No  living  owl 
ever  did  that,  and  yet  it  was  a  thousand  to  one  that 
nobody  would  notic£*the  difference,  if  any  one  heard 
him  at  all,  except  the  person  for  whom  the  call  was 
meant. 

He  had  not  been  whistling  more  than  a  quarter  of 
a  minute  when  he  felt  the  twine  passing  upwards  through 
his  fingers,  and  then  the  line  after  it.  He  let  the  latter 
run  through  his  hand  to  be  sure  that  it  did  not  foul  and 
kink,  though  he  had  purposely  chosen  one  that  had  been 
long  in  use,  and  he  had  kept  it  in  a  dry  place  for  a  week. 

Zeno  had  dropped  his  cloak  in  the  stern  of  the  boat 
before  getting  out,  and  he  now  sat  at  the  water's  edge 
with  his  hands  on  the  moving  line  ready  to  check  the 
end  when  it  came,  in  case  it  were  not  already  fast  to 
the  rope  that  was  to  follow  it.  But  Gorlias  had  done 
that  beforehand,  lest  any  time  should  be  lost,  and  pres 
ently  Zeno  felt  the  line  growing  taut  as  it  began  to 
pull  on  the  rope  itself. 

This  had  single  overhand  knots  in  it,  about  two  feet 
apart,  for  climbing,  and  instead  of  coiling  it  down, 
Gorlias  had  ranged  it  fore  and  aft  on  the  forward  thwarts 
so  that  it  came  ashore  clear.  Whatever  the  astrologer's 
original  profession  had  been,  it  was  evident  that  he  under 
stood  how  to  handle  rope  as  well  as  if  he  had  been  to 
sea.  Moreover  Zeno,  who  was  as  much  a  sailor  as  a 
soldier,  understood  from  the  speed  at  which  the  rope 
was  now  taken  up,  that  there  was  a  tolerably  strong 
person  at  the  other  end  of  it,  high  up  in  the  topmost 


x  ARETHUSA  205 

story  of  the  tower.  The  end  came  sooner  than  he  ex 
pected,  and  a  slight  noise  of  something  catching  and 
knocking  against  the  inner  side  of  the  boat  brought 
Gorlias  instantly  to  the  water's  edge. 

'The  tail-block  is  fast  to  the  end/  he  whispered; 
'and  the  other  line  is  already  rove,  with  the  basket  at 
one  end  of  it.  When  you  are  aloft,  you  must  haul  up 
the  climbing  rope  and  make  the  block  fast  —  you  under 
stand.' 

'Of  course/  Zeno  answered,  'I  have  been  to  sea/ 

'Whistle  when  you  are  ready  and  I  will  answer.  As 
he  comes  down  I  can  check  the  rope  with  a  turn  round 
a  smooth  stone  I  have  found  at  the  corner  of  the  tower. 
You  must  come  down  the  climbing  rope  at  the  same  time, 
and  steer  the  basket  as  well  as  you  can  with  your  foot/ 

'Yes.    Is  all  fast  above?' 

Gorlias  listened. 

'Not  yet/  he  whispered.    'Wait  for  the  signal/ 

It  came  presently,  the  cry  of  the  owlet  repeated,  as 
Gorlias  had  repeated  it.  Zeno  heard  it  and  began  to 
climb,  while  Gorlias  steadied  the  rope,  though  there  was 
hardly  any  need  for  that.  The  young  Venetian  walked 
up  with  his  feet  to  the  wall,  taking  the  rope  hand  over 
hand,  as  if  he  were  going  up  a  bare  pole  by  a  gant-line. 

When  he  was  twenty  feet  above  the  pier  and  was  fast 
disappearing  in  the  darkness,  something  moved  in  the 
boat,  and  a  white  face  looked  up  cautiously  over  the  gun 
wale.  It  was  a  woman's  face.  Zeno  had  stepped  upon 
her  with  his  whole  weight  when  he  was  getting  ashore, 
but  she  had  made  no  sound.  Her  eyes  tried  to  pierce 


206  ARETHUSA  CHAP. 

the  gloom,  to  follow  him  upwards  in  his  dizzy  ascent. 
Soon  she  could  not  see  him  any  longer,  nor  hear  the  soft 
sound  of  his  cloth-shod  feet  as  he  planted  them  against 
the  stones. 

Up  he  went,  higher  and  higher.  Gorlias  steadied 
the  end  below,  keeping  one  foot  on  the  block  lest  it 
should  thrash  about  on  the  stones  and  make  a  noise. 
He  could  feel  each  of  Zeno's  movements  along  the  rope ; 
and  though  he  had  seen  many  feats  in  his  life,  he  won 
dered  at  the  wind  and  endurance  of  a  man  who  could 
make  such  an  ascent  without  once  crooking  his  leg 
round  the  rope  to  rest  and  take  breath.  But  Carlo  Zeno 
never  stopped  till  his  feet  were  on  the  slight  projecting 
moulding  of  the  highest  story,  and  his  hands  on  the  stone 
sill. 

As  he  drew  himself  up  with  a  spring  his  face  almost 
struck  the  chest  of  a  large  woman  who  was  standing  at 
the  window  to  receive  him.  He  saw  her  outline  faintly, 
for  there  was  a  little  light  from  one  small  lamp,  placed  on 
the  floor  in  the  farthest  corner  of  the  oblong  room.  The 
tower  was  square,  but  the  north  side  of  the  chamber  was 
walled  off  to  make  a  space  for  the  head  of  the  staircase 
and  a  narrow  entry.  The  single  door  was  in  this  par 
tition.  Zeno  looked  round  while  he  took  breath,  and 
he  was  aware  of  a  tall  man  with  a  long  beard  who  stood 
on  one  side  of  the  window,  and  seemed  inclined  to  flatten 
himself  against  the  wall,  as  if  he  feared  being  seen  from 
without,  even  at  that  height  and  in  the  dark. 

The  woman  moved  a  step  backwards,  and  Carlo  put 
•ne  leg  over  the  window-sill  and  got  in.  He  took  his 


x  AEETHUSA  207 

skull-cap  from  his  head  and  bowed  low  to  the  im 
prisoned  Emperor  before  he  spoke  to  the  woman 
in  a  whisper. 

'I  will  haul  up  the  basket/  he  said,  and  he  laid  his 
hands  on  the  knotted  rope  to  do  so. 

But  the  tall  man  with  the  beard  touched  him  on  the 
shoulder,  and  spoke  in  a  low  voice. 

'We  must  talk  together/  he  said. 

Zeno  hardly  turned  his  head,  and  did  not  stop  hauling 
in  the  rope.  Below,  Gorlias  was  steering  the  tail-block 
clear  of  the  wall,  lest  it  should  strike  the  stones  and 
make  a  noise. 

'This  is  no  time  for  talking/  Zeno  said.  'When  your 
Majesty  is  free  and  in  safety  we  can  talk  at  leisure.' 

The  knotted  rope  was  coming  in  fast;  Zeno  threw 
it  upon  the  floor  behind  him  in  a  wide  coil  to  keep  it 
clear. 

'  Stop  ! '  commanded  the  Emperor,  laying  one  hand  on 
the  Venetian's  arm. 

Zeno  set  his  foot  on  the  rope  to  keep  it  from  running 
out,  and  turned  to  the  prisoner  in  surprise. 

'Every  moment  is  precious/  he  said.  'If  we  are  dis 
covered  from  outside  the  tower  the  game  is  up,  and  we 
shall  be  caught  like  rats  in  a  trap.  I  have  a  basket  at 
the  end  of  this  rope  in  which  you  will  be  quite  safe  from 
falling,  if  that  is  what  makes  you  hesitate.  Fear  noth 
ing.  We  are  too  good  men,  I  and  my  companion  below.' 

'You  are  a  good  man  indeed,  to  have  risked  your  life 
in  climbing  here/  answered  Johannes. 

He  made  a  few  steps,  bending  his  still  handsome  head 


208  ABETHUSA  CHAP. 

in  thought.  He  limped  slightly  in  his  walk,  and  he  was 
said  to  have  only  four  toes  on  his  left  foot. 

Zeno  at  once  continued  hauling  up  the  rope,  but  a 
moment  later  the  Emperor  stopped  close  beside  him. 

'It  is  of  no  use/  he  said;  'I  cannot  go  with  you.' 

Zeno  was  thunderstruck,  and  stood  still  with  the 
rope  in  his  two  hands. 

'You  will  not  go?7  he  repeated,  almost  stupidly. 
'You  will  not  be  free,  now  that  everything  is  ready  ?' 

'  I  cannot.  Go  down  your  rope  before  there  is  an  alarm. 
Take  God's  blessing  for  your  generous  courage,  and  my 
heartfelt  thanks.  I  am  ashamed  that  I  should  have 
nothing  else  to  offer  you.  I  cannot  go*5 

'But  why?    Why?' 

Carlo  Zeno  could  not  remember  that  he  had  ever  been 
so  much  surprised  in  his  life,  and  so  are  they  who  gather 
round  the  story-teller  and  listen  to  his  tale.  But  it  is 
a  true  one;  and  many  years  afterwards  one  of  Carlo 
Zeno's  grandsons,  the  good  old  Bishop  of  Belluno,  wrote 
it  down  as  he  had  heard  it  from  his  grandsire's  lips. 
Moreover  it  is  history.  The  imprisoned  Emperor  Jo 
hannes  refused  to  leave  his  prison,  after  Zeno  had  risked 
life  and  limb  to  prepare  a  revolution,  and  had  scaled  the 
tower  alone. 

'Andronicus  has  my  little  son  in  the  palace,'  said  the 
prisoner;  'if  I  escape  he  will  put  out  the  child's  eyes 
with  boiling  vinegar,  and  perhaps  mutilate  him  or  kill 
him  by  inches.  Save  him  first,  then  I  will  go  with  you.' 

There  was  something  very  noble  in  the  prisoner's 
tone,  and  in  the  turn  of  his  handsome  head  as  he 


x  AEETHUSA  209 

spoke.  Zeno  could  not  help  respecting  him,  yet 
he  was  profoundly  disappointed.  He  tried  one 
argument. 

'If  you  will  come  at  once/  he  said,  'I  promise  you 
that  we  shall  hold  the  palace  before  daybreak,  and  the 
little  prince  will  be  as  free  as  you/ 

Johannes  shook  his  head  sadly. 

'The  guards  will  kill  him  instantly/  he  said;  'the 
more  certainly  if  they  see  that  they  must  fight  for  their 
lives/ 

'In  short,  your  Majesty  is  resolved?  You  will  not 
come  with  me?' 

'I  cannot/  The  Emperor  turned  away,  and  covered 
his  face  with  his  hands,  more  as  if  trying  to  concentrate 
his  thoughts  than  as  if  in  despair.  'No,  I  cannot/ 
he  repeated  presently.  'Save  the  boy  first/  he  repeated, 
dropping  his  hands  and  turning  to  Zeno  again,  'then  I 
will  go  with  you/ 

Zeno  was  silent  for  a  moment,  and  then  spoke  in  a 
determined  tone. 

'Hear  me,  sire/  he  said.  'A  man  does  not  run  such 
risks  twice,  except  for  his  own  blood.  You  must  either 
come  with  me  at  once,  or  give  up  the  idea  that  I  shall 
ever  help  you  to  escape.  The  boy  may  be  in  danger, 
but  so  are  you  yourself,  and  your  life  is  worth  more  to 
this  unhappy  Empire  than  his.  To-night,  to-morrow, 
at  any  moment,  your  son  Andronicus  may  send  the  exe 
cutioner  here,  and  there  will  be  an  end  of  you  and  of 
many  hopes.  You  must  risk  your  younger  boy's  life 
for  your  cause.  I  see  no  other  way/ 


210  ARETHUSA 


CHAP. 


'The  other  way  is  this;  I  will  stay  here  and  risk  my 
own.  I  would  rather  die  ten  deaths  than  let  my  child 
be  tortured,  blinded,  and  murdered/ 

'Very  well,'  answered  Zeno;  'then  I  must  go.' 

He  let  the  knotted  rope  go  over  the  sill  again  till  it 
was  all  out,  and  he  sat  astride  the  window  mullion  ready 
to  begin  the  descent. 

'Cast  off  the  rope  when  I  whistle/  he  said  'and  let  it 
down  by  the  line,  and  the  line  after  it  by  the 
twine.' 

He  spoke  to  the  big  woman,  who  was  the  wife  of  the 
keeper,  himself  a  trusted  captain  of  veterans.  She 
nodded  by  way  of  answer. 

'For  the  last  time/  Zeno  said,  looking  towards  Jo 
hannes,  'will  you  come  with  me?  There  is  still 
time.' 

The  Emperor  looked  prematurely  old  in  the  faint  light, 
and  his  figure  was  bent  as  he  rested  with  one  hand  on 
the  heavy  table.  His  voice  was  weak  too,  as  if  he  were 
very  tired  after  some  great  effort. 

'For  the  last  time,  no/  he  answered.  'I  am  sorry. 
I  thank  you  with  all  my  heart ' 

Zeno  did  not  wait  for  more,  and  his  head  disappeared 
below  the  window  almost  before  the  prisoner  had  spoken 
the  last  words.  Five  minutes  had  not  elapsed  since  he 
had  reached  the  chamber. 

Below,  Gorlias  had  been  surprised  when  he  felt  the 
second  rope  slack  in  his  hand,  and  when  the  basket  and 
block,  which  had  been  half-way  up  the  wall,  began  to 
come  down  again.  The  astrologer  could  only  suppose 


x  ARETHUSA  211 

that  there  was  an  alarm  within  the  tower,  and  that  Zeno 
was  getting  away  as  fast  as  he  could.  The  last  written 
message,  lowered  by  the  yarn  at  dusk  that  evening,  had 
been  to  say  that  the  Emperor  was  ready,  and  that  a 
red  light  would  be  shown  when  the  captain  was  asleep, 
under  the  influence  of  the  drug  his  wife  had  given  him. 
It  could  not  possibly  occur  to  the  astrologer  that  Jo 
hannes  would  change  his  mind  at  the  very  last 
moment. 

'  Take  care ! '  Gorlias  whispered  quickly  to  the  woman 
at  his  elbow,  as  soon  as  he  was  sure  of  what  was  hap 
pening.  'He  is  coming  down  again.' 

' Alone?'  The  anxious  inquiry  answered  his  words 
in  the  same  breath. 

'Alone  —  yes !  He  is  on  the  rope  now,  he  is  coming 
down,  hand  under  hand.' 

The  woman  slipped  down  the  inclined  surface,  almost 
fell,  recovered  her  foothold,  and  nearly  fell  again  as  she 
sprang  into  the  boat,  and  threw  herself  at  full  length 
upon  the  bottom  boards.  Zeno  was  half-way  down, 
and  before  she  covered  herself  with  the  canvas  she 
glanced  up  and  distinctly  saw  his  dark  figure  descending 
through  the  gloom. 

She  had  scarcely  stretched  herself  out  when  she  was 
startled  by  a  loud  cry,  close  at  hand. 

<Phylak<§!  Aho  — ho  — o!  Watch,  ho!  Watch, 
ho!' 

A  boat  had  shot  out  of  the  darkness  to  the  edge  of  the 
pier.  In  an  instant  three  men  had  sprung  ashore,  and 
were  clambering  up  the  sloping  masonry  towards  Gorlias. 


212  ABBTHUSA  CHAP. 

The  woman  stood  up  in  Zeno's  skiff,  almost  upsetting 
it,  and  her  eyes  pierced  the  gloom  to  see  what  was  hap 
pening. 

Gorlias  threw  himself  desperately  against  the  three 
men,  with  outstretched  arms,  hoping  to  sweep  them 
altogether  into  the  water  from  a  place  where  they  had 
so  little  foothold.  The  woman  held  her  breath.  One 
of  the  three  men,  active  as  a  monkey,  dodged  past 
the  astrologer,  caught  the  knotted  rope,  and  began  climb 
ing  it.  The  other  two  fell,  their  feet  entangled  in  the 
line-rove  through  the  tail-block,  and  with  the  strong 
man's  weight  behind  them  they  tumbled  headlong  down 
the  incline.  With  a  heavy  splash,  and  scarcely  more 
than  one  for  all  three,  Gorlias  and  his  opponents  fell 
into  the  water. 

There  was  silence  then,  while  the  other  man  climbed 
higher  and  higher. 

The  woman  watched  in  horror.  In  falling,  the  men 
had  struck  against  the  stem  of  the  skiff,  dragging  the 
painter  from  the  peg.  The  other  boat  was  not  moored 
at  all,  and  both  were  now  adrift  on  the  sluggish  stream. 
The  woman  steadied  herself,  and  tried  to  see. 

The  man  climbed  fast,  and  above  him  the  dark  figure 
moved  quickly  upwards.  But  Zeno's  pursuer  was  fresher 
than  he,  and  as  quick  as  a  cat,  and  gained  on  him.  If 
he  caught  him,  he  might  crook  his  leg  round  the  knotted 
rope  to  drag  Zeno  down  and  hurl  him  to  the 
ground. 

Still  he  gained,  while  the  boats  began  to  drift,  but  still 
the  woman  could  make  out  both  figures,  nearer  and 


x  ARETHUSA  213 

nearer  to  each  other.  Now  there  were  not  ten  feet 
between  them. 

A  faint  cry  was  heard,  a  heavy  thud  on  the  stones, 
and  silence  again.  Zeno  had  cut  the  rope  below  him. 
The  woman  drew  a  sharp  breath  between  her  closed 
teeth.  There  was  no  noise,  now,  for  the  man  that  had 
been  as  active  as  a  cat  was  dead. 

But  an  instant  later  one  of  the  other  three  was  out  of 
the  water,  and  on  the  edge  of  the  pier,  panting  for  breath. 

The  woman  took  up  one  of  the  oars,  and  tried  to  pad 
dle  with  it.  She  thought  that  the  man  who  had  come 
up  must  be  Gorlias,  and  that  the  other  two  were  drowned, 
and  she  tried  to  get  the  boat  to  the  pier  again;  she  had 
never  held  an  oar  in  her  life,  and  she  was  trembling  now. 
High  in  mid-air  Zeno  was  hanging  on  what  was  left  of 
the  rope,  slowly  working  his  way  upwards,  fully  fifty 
feet  above  the  base  of  the  tower. 

The  skiff  bumped  against  the  other  boat  alongside, 
and  the  woman  began  to  despair  of  getting  nearer  to 
the  land,  and  tried  to  shove  the  empty  boat  away  with 
her  hands.  The  effect  was  to  push  her  own  skiff  towards 
the  pier,  for  the  other  was  much  the  heavier  of  the  two. 
Then,  paddling  a  little,  she  made  a  little  way.  The  man 
ashore  seemed  to  be  examining  the  body  of  the  one  who 
had  been  killed ;  it  lay  sprawling  on  the  stones,  the  head 
smashed.  The  living  one  was  not  Gorlias;  the  woman 
could  see  his  outline  now.  She  was  strong,  and  with  the 
one  oar  shoved  her  skiff  still  farther  from  the  other  boat, 
and  nearer  to  the  pier.  The  man  heard  her,  got  upon  his 
feet,  and  slipped  down  to  the  water's  edge  again. 


214  ARETHUSA  CHAP. 

'Hold  out  the  end  of  the  oar  to  me/  he  said,  'and  I 
will  pull  the  boat  in.' 

It  was  not  the  voice  of  Gorlias  that  spoke,  and  the 
woman  did  not  obey  the  instructions  it  gave.  On  the 
contrary  she  tried  to  paddle  away,  lest  the  man  should 
jump  aboard.  Strangely  enough  the  skiff  seemed  to 
answer  at  once  to  her  will,  as  if  some  unseen  power  were 
helping  her.  It  could  not  be  her  unskilled,  almost  help 
less  movements  of  the  oar  that  guided  it  away. 

But  the  man  rose  to  his  feet,  on  the  lowest  course 
of  the  stones,  where  there  was  a  ledge,  and  he  sprang 
forwards,  struck  the  water  without  putting  his  head 
under,  and  was  at  the  stern  of  the  boat  in  a  few  seconds. 

The  woman  seemed  fearless,  for  she  stepped  quickly 
over  the  after  thwart,  taking  her  oar  with  her,  and  a 
moment  later  she  struck  a  desperate  blow  with  it  at  the 
swimmer,  and  raised  it  again.  She  could  not  see  him 
any  more,  and  she  knew  that  if  she  had  struck  his  head 
he  must  have  sunk  instantly;  but  she  waited  a  little 
longer  in  the  stern,  the  oar  still  uplifted  in  both  her 
hands. 

At  that  moment,  the  repeated  call  of  the  owlet  came 
down  from  far  above.  It  could  only  mean  that  Zeno 
had  reached  the  upper  window  in  safety.  Then  the  boat 
rocked  violently  two  or  three  times,  and  the  woman 
was  thrown  down,  sitting,  in  the  stern  sheets;  she  saw 
that  a  man  was  getting  in  over  the  bows,  and  was  already 
on  board. 

'That  was  well  done,  Kokona,'  said  the  voice  of  Gor 
lias,  softly. 


x  ARETHUSA  215 

Zoe  sank  back  in  the  stern,  half -faint  ing  with  exhaus 
tion,  pain,  and  past  anxiety. 

'Is  he  safe?'  she  managed  to  ask. 

'  That  was  his  call.  He  has  reached  the  window  again, 
but  it  was  a  narrow  escape.' 

She  could  hardly  breathe.  Gorlias  had  taken  the  oars, 
and  the  skiff  was  moving. 


CHAPTER   XI 

ZENO  found  the  two  occupants  of  the  room  terrorstruck, 
and  standing  on  one  side  of  the  window,  from  which 
they  had  not  dared  to  look  out  after  the  cry  of  alarm  had 
been  given  from  below.  Indeed  they  were  in  a  dangerous 
pass,  unless  all  three  of  the  men  who  had  attempted  to 
stop  Zeno  were  dead,  or  if  the  first  cry  had  roused  the 
sleeping  captain  and  guards  of  the  tower  from  their 
drugged  sleep. 

But  Zeno's  own  situation  was  quite  as  bad.  It  was 
out  of  the  question  to  shout  to  Gorlias,  on  the  mere 
chance  of  his  being  still  alive  and  on  the  pier.  No  com 
munication  was  possible,  and  the  rope  was  cut  below. 
It  was  true  that  the  whole  of  the  fishing-line  still  lay 
coiled  on  the  floor  of  the  room,  but  even  if  it  were  long 
enough  to  double  it  would  hardly  bear  the  man's  weight  ; 
and  Carlo  guessed  that  he  had  cut  off  nearly  three- 
quarters  of  the  knotted  rope  below  him. 

There  was  no  time  to  be  lost  either.  He  did  not  know 
the  number  of  his  assailants,  and  though  he  gave  his 
signal  when  he  reached  the  window,  on  the  mere  chance 
of  being  heard,  he  would  not  have  trusted  the  answer  to 
it  if  it  had  come.  Any  one  could  imitate  such  a  sound 
after  hearing  it  once.  If  he  let  down  the  remaining 
length  of  the  rope  by  the  fishing-line,  and  if  his  enemies 

216 


CHAP.  XI 


ARETHUSA  217 


were  on  the  pier  instead  of  Gorlias,  they  would  have 
wit  enough  to  knot  the  rope  where  it  had  been  cut,  and 
to  send  it  up  again,  for  him  to  come  down  by,  and  he 
would  drop  into  their  very  midst. 

He  understood  all  this  in  an  instant,  and  without 
hesitation  he  cast  off  everything  above,  and  dropped 
the  rope  and  the  fishing-line  out  of  the  window.  He 
knew  Gorlias  well  enough  to  be  sure  that  he  would  come 
back  before  daylight  and  land  if  there  were  no  one  on  the 
pier,  and  remove  all  traces  of  the  attempt. 

'  We  are  all  lost ! '  moaned  the  big  woman. 

'My  hour  has  come/  said  the  Emperor  Johannes  in 
solemn  terror. 

Thereupon  he  began  to  say  his  prayers,  and  paid  no 
more  attention  to  the  others.  Zeno  took  the  woman 
by  the  wrist. 

'We  are  not  lost  unless  your  husband  is  awake/  he 
said.  'Take  me  to  him.' 

The  captain's  wife  stared  at  him. 

'There  is  no  other  way.  If  he  is  awake,  you  will  tell 
him  that  I  got  into  the  tower,  and  that  you  have  betrayed 
me  into  his  hands.  You  will  be  safe  at  least,  and  I  will 
take  my  chance.  If  he  is  asleep  I  have  nothing  to  fear.' 

He  drew  her  to  the  door  and  began  to  unbar  it  himself. 
She  had  understood  that  he  was  right,  so  far  as  her  own 
safety  was  concerned,  and  she  helped  him.  A  horn 
lantern  stood  on  the  stone  floor  in  the  entry  at  the  head 
of  the  stair,  where  she  had  left  it  when  she  had  last  come 
up.  Before  going  down  she  barred  the  door  outside  as 
usual,  and  then  led  the  way. 


218  ARETHUSA  CHAP. 

At  the  first  landing  she  opened  a  door  as  softly  as 
she  could  and  went  in,  leaving  Zeno  on  the  threshold. 
It  was  the  sleeping  room,  and  Zeno  heard  the  captain's 
stertorous  breathing  with  relief.  He  went  in  and  looked 
at  the  sleeping  man's  face,  which  was  congested  to  a 
dark  red  by  the  powerful  drug,  and  Zeno  thought  it 
doubtful  whether  he  would  ever  wake  again.  The 
woman,  ignorant  of  the  effects  of  much  opium,  was  afraid 
her  husband  might  open  his  eyes,  and  she  plucked  at 
Zeno's  sleeve,  anxious  to  get  him  away;  but  the  Vene 
tian  smiled. 

'He  is  good  for  twelve  hours'  sleep/  he  said.  'Give 
me  his  cloak  and  helmet.  If  I  find  no  one  awake  I  will 
leave  them  at  the  outer  gate.  Otherwise  I  will  send  them 
to  the  tower  in  a  clothes-basket  to-morrow  morning.' 

The  captain's  wife  obeyed,  less  frightened  than  she 
had  been  at  first;  Zeno  muffled  half  his  face  in  the  big 
cloak,  and  threw  the  end  over  his  shoulder  whence  it 
hung  down,  displaying  the  three  broad  stripes  of  gold 
lace  that  formed  the  border  distinctive  of  a  captain's 
rank  in  the  guards.  The  bright  helmet  had  a  gilt  eagle 
for  a  crest,  scarcely  differing  from  that  of  the  modern 
German  Gardes  du  Corps  regiment. 

'Now  show  me  the  way,'  Zeno  said. 

Under  the  folds  of  the  cloak  he  had  the  short  broad 
sheath-knife  ready  in  his  grasp,  and  it  was  no  bad  weapon 
in  the  hand  of  such  a  fighter  as  Carlo  Zeno.  The  cap 
tain's  wife  led  the  way  with  the  lantern. 

At  the  foot  of  the  next  flight  of  stairs  she  almost  stum 
bled  over  the  sentinel,  half-seated  on  the  lowest  step  in 


The  captain's  wife  obeyed,  less  frightened  than  she  had  been  at  first. 


xi  ABETHUSA  219 

a  drunken  sleep;  his  shaggy  head  had  fallen  forwards 
on  his  breast,  and  his  legs  stuck  straight  out  before  him, 
wide  apart,  like  the  legs  of  a  wooden  doll.  His  hands 
lay  open  with  the  palms  upwards,  one  on  his  knee,  the 
other  on  the  step  beside  him ;  and  his  helmet,  which  had 
rolled  off  his  head,  had  happened  to  stop  just  between 
his  feet,  the  right  side  up,  and  facing  him,  as  if  it  were 
watching  him  in  his  slumber  like  a  living  thing. 

The  story  they  had  now  reached  contained  the  living 
room  of  the  captain  and  his  wife,  and  no  sentinel  was 
needed  higher  up  in  the  tower.  An  iron  door,  fastened 
on  the  inside,  cut  off  the  descent,  and  had  to  be  opened 
for  Zeno  to  pass.  But  being  constantly  in  use  the  lock 
was  well  oiled,  and  the  bolts  slipped  back  almost  without 
noise.  Nevertheless,  as  he  followed  his  companion  down 
the  next  flight,  Zeno  drew  up  the  folds  of  the  cloak  on 
his  right  arm  till  the  edge  barely  covered  the  drawn 
knife  in  his  hand. 

They  reached  the  next  story  below,  where  the  upper 
guard-room  was.  The  door  was  half-open,  and  a  lamp 
was  burning  within,  but  as  the  window  was  over  the  great 
court  of  Blachernse  no  light  had  been  visible  from  the 
water.  Zeno  heard  voices,  and  caught  sight  of  two 
guards  carousing  at  the  end  of  an  oak  table.  At  the 
sound  of  footsteps  one  of  the  men  rose  quickly,  but 
staggered  when  he  tried  to  walk  to  the  door. 

'Who  goes  there?'  he  called  out,  steadying  himself 
by  the  door-post,  and  looking  out. 

The  captain's  wife  had  the  presence  of  mind  to  hold 
up  the  lantern,  so  that  the  light  fell  full  upon  the  helmet 


220  ARETHTJSA  CHAP. 

Zeno  wore.  Instantly  the  soldier  tried  to  straighten 
himself  to  an  attitude  of  attention,  with  his  hands  by 
his  sides.  But  this  was  too  much  for  his  unstable  bal 
ance,  and  he  reeled  backwards  half  across  the  room 
within,  till  he  struck  the  table  behind  him,  and  tum 
bled  down  with  a  clatter  of  accoutrements  and  a  rattling 
of  the  horn  drinking-cups  that  were  thrown  to  the  ground. 
His  companion,  who  was  altogether  too  drunk  even  to 
leave  his  seat,  broke  into  a  loud  idiotic  laugh  at  his 
accident. 

'You  have  done  your  share  well,  Kyria/  said  Zeno, 
as  he  followed  her  again.  '  The  Emperor's  friends  could 
have  brought  him  down  by  the  stairs  in  triumph  without 
being  stopped.' 

'  You  are  not  out  of  the  palace  precincts  yet,'  answered 
the  captain's  wife  in  a  warning  tone. 

She  went  on,  treading  more  softly  as  she  descended, 
and  carrying  the  lantern  low  lest  she  or  her  companion 
should  stumble  over  another  sleeping  sentinel;  but  the 
staircase  and  the  door  that  led  into  the  court  were  de 
serted,  for  the  captain  was  a  very  exact  man,  and  had 
his  supper  at  the  same  hour  every  evening,  and  went  to 
bed  soon  afterwards  like  an  honest  citizen,  after  setting 
the  watch  and  locking  the  iron  door  of  his  own  lower 
landing.  In  two  years  he  had  never  once  come  down 
the  tower  after  sunset.  The  consequence  was  that  the 
guards,  who  were  mostly  rough  barbarians  from  the 
Don  country  and  the  shores  of  the  Black  Sea,  did  as  they 
pleased,  or  as  their  lieutenant  pleased;  for  he  found  it 
pleasant  to  spend  his  nights  in  another  part  of  the  palace, 


xi  ARETHUSA  221 

and  was  extremely  popular  with  his  men,  because  they 
were  thus  enabled  to  go  to  bed  like  good  Christians  and 
sleep  all  night. 

All  this  the  captain's  wife  knew  well  enough.  Her 
apprehension  was  for  what  might  happen  to  Zeno  be 
tween  leaving  the  tower  and  passing  the  great  gate,  which 
was  the  only  way  to  get  out  of  the  fortified  precincts. 
The  wide  courtyard  was  very  dark,  but  there  were  lights 
here  and  there  in  the  windows  of  the  buildings  that  sur 
rounded  it  on  three  sides,  the  great  mass  of  the  palace 
on  the  right,  the  barracks  of  the  guards  along  the  wall 
to  the  left,  and  the  main  post  at  the  great  gate  in  front 
with  the  buildings  on  each  side  of  it,  some  occupied  by 
slaves  and  some  used  as  stables. 

Zeno  wished  that  he  had  stripped  one  of  the  sleeping 
soldiers  and  had  put  on  his  dress,  for  he  had  been  in 
formed  of  the  captain's  habits,  and  knew  that  the  dis 
guise  was  no  longer  a  safe  one  after  leaving  the  tower. 
Indeed  it  was  a  chief  part  of  the  captain's  duty  never 
to  go  out  after  dark,  on  any  excuse,  and  he  apparently 
made  sure  of  obeying  this  permanent  order  by  going  to 
bed  early  and  getting  up  late.  For  the  rest,  he  had 
always  left  the  personal  care  of  his  prisoner  to  his  wife, 
judging  that  her  stout  middle-age  and  fiery  cheeks  suffi 
ciently  protected  his  domestic  honour.  She  had  been 
young  and  very  pretty  once,  it  was  true,  but  the  cap 
tain  did  not  know  that  Johannes  had  even  seen  her  then, 
much  less  did  he  guess  that  many  years  ago,  when  the 
Emperor  was  a  handsome  young  prince  and  she  was  a 
lovely  girl  in  the  old  Empress's  train,  she  had  worshipped 


222  ARETHUSA  CHAP. 

him  and  he  had  condescended  to  accept  her  admiration 
for  a  few  weeks.  But  this  was  the  truth,  as  Zeno's  grand 
son  the  bishop  very  clearly  explains. 

She  left  her  lantern  just  inside  the  door  and  came 
out  with  Carlo  into  the  open  air.  After  walking  a  few 
steps  she  laid  her  hand  on  his  arm,  stopped,  looked  round, 
and  listened.  As  yet  they  had  not  exchanged  two 
words  about  the  situation,  and  were  far  from  sure  that 
the  watch  which  had  detected  Carlo  from  the  water  and 
had  failed  to  catch  him,  had  not  come  round  by  land  to 
the  palace  gate  to  give  the  alarm. 

Zeno  slipped  the  cloak  from  his  shoulders  and  wrapped 
it  round  the  helmet,  so  that  the  captain's  wife  could 
carry  both  conveniently. 

'It  is  hopeless/  she  whispered,  as  she  took  them. 
1  This  morning  he  promised  that  he  would  leave  the  prison 
if  you  could  bring  him  out.  He  has  often  spoken  to 
me  as  he  spoke  to  you  this  evening  —  he  loves  the  boy 
dearly ;  but  I  was  sure  that  he  had  made  up  his  mind  to 
risk  everything,  else  I  would  not  have  shown  the  red 
light/ 

'After  all/  Zeno  observed,  'it  is  just  as  well  that  he 
would  not  come,  since  we  were  seen,  though  I  really 
believe  Gorlias  was  too  much  for  the  men  who  almost 
caught  us.  He  and  I  together  could  certainly  have 
settled  them  all  —  there  were  only  three.  I  saw  them 
distinctly  when  they  first  jumped  ashore,  and  one  was 
killed  by  the  fall  when  I  cut  the  rope.  Gorlias  silenced 
the  other  two,  for  if  they  were  alive  there  would  have 
been  an  alarm  here  by  this  time/ 


xi  ABETHUSA  223 

'Yes/  the  woman  answered.  'But  some  one  must 
have  betrayed  us.  We  cannot  try  that  way  again.' 

'I  shall  not  try  that,  or  any  other  way  again!'  Zeno 
said  with  emphasis.  'In  the  name  of  the  Evangelist, 
why  should  I  risk  my  neck  to  free  a  man  who  prefers 
to  be  a  prisoner?' 

'The  wonder  is  that  you  are  alive  this  time!' 

'  It  will  not  even  be  safe  to  communicate  by  the  thread 
again.  Will  you  take  him  a  message?' 

'As  well  as  I  can  remember  it.' 

'Tell  him  that  the  next  time  he  asks  my  help  he  must 
send  me,  by  the  same  messenger,  a  deed  giving  Tenedos 
to  Venice,  signed  and  sealed.  Otherwise  I  will  not 
stir!' 

'Shall  I  tell  him  that?' 

'Yes.  Tell  him  so  from  me.  And  now,  go  back, 
Kyria,  and  thank  you  for  your  guidance  and  your  lan 
tern  in  those  dark  stairs.' 

'How  shall  you  pass  the  gate?'  asked  the  captain's 
wife. 

She  spoke  anxiously,  for  Zeno  was  a  handsome  man, 
and  she  had  seen  how  brave  he  was. 

'I  do  not  know/  he  answered,  'but  one  of  two  things 
must  happen.' 

'What  things?' 

'Either  I  shall  get  out  or  I  shall  never  see  daylight 
again !  I  shall  not  let  myself  be  taken  alive  to  be  im 
paled  in  the  Hippodrome,  I  assure  you.  Thank  you 
again,  and  good-night.' 

She  drew  back  into  the  shadow  of  the  tower  door  and 


224  ABETHU8A  CHAP. 

watched  the  handsome  young  man  with  the  peculiar 
half-motherly,  half-sentimental  anxiety  of  the  middle- 
aged  woman,  who  was  a  flirt  in  her  youth  and  turned 
the  heads  of  just  such  men,  who  knows  that  she  is  grown 
fat  and  ugly  and  can  never  turn  the  head  of  another, 
but  who  has  preserved  many  tender  and  pleasant  recol 
lections  of  all  the  sex. 

Zeno  did  not  walk  straight  towards  the  gate,  though 
it  was  easily  distinguished  from  the  adjacent  buildings 
by  the  greater  number  of  its  lights.  He  crossed  the 
wide  court  diagonally  to  the  right,  in  the  direction  of 
the  stables,  till  he  was  near  enough  to  see  distinctly 
any  one  who  chanced  to  come  under  the  rays  of  one  of 
the  scattered  lamps  that  burned  here  and  there  in  door 
ways  and  open  windows.  Before  long  he  saw  a  trooper 
of  the  guards  emerging  rather  unsteadily  out  of  the  dark 
ness  into  one  of  these  small  circles  of  light.  Zeno  could 
not  help  smiling  to  himself  at  the  idea  that  there  was 
hardly  one  sober  man  awake  among  the  guards  that 
night,  and  that  they  had  all  drunk  themselves  stupid 
with  his  money. 

He  overtook  the  man  in  half-a-dozen  strides,  and  spoke 
to  him  in  a  low  voice. 

'Hi!  comrade!  You  who  are  still  perfectly  sober, 
help  a  friend  who  is  very  drunk ! ' 

The  man  stopped,  steadied  himself,  and  answered 
with  ponderous  gravity. 

1  Perfectly — hie — hie — sober ! ' 

'I  wish  I  were!'  replied  Zeno.  'The  truth  is,  I  am 
exceedingly  drunk,  though  I  do  not  show  it.  Wine 


xi  ARETHUSA  225 

only  affects  my  brains,  never  my  legs  or  my  tongue. 
It  is  a  very  strange  thing ! ' 

'Very — cu — hie — rious!'  responded  the  soldier,  trying 
to  see  his  interlocutor  clearly,  by  screwing  up  his  eyes. 

'Extraordinarily  cuhicrious,  as  you  justly  observe/ 
Zeno  answered  gravely.  'But  the  fact  is ' 

'Excuse  me — hie/  interrupted  the  soldier.  'Are  you 
one  man — hie — or  two  men?' 

'One  man/  Zeno  answered.  'Only  one,  and  so  drunk 
that  I  have  quite  forgotten  the  password/ 

'Sec — hie — ret/  hiccoughed  the  man.  'Password 
secret/  he  repeated,  with  a  tremendous  effort. 

'Here  is  a  gold  piece,  my  dear  friend.  You  will  help 
a  comrade  in  trouble.' 

The  man  took  the  money  eagerly,  and  tried  to  put  it 
into  his  wallet.  To  do  so  he  had  to  bend  his  head  down 
so  as  to  see  the  thongs  that  fastened  it.  It  took  a  long 
time  to  find  them. 

'Just  give  me  the  password  before  you  do  that/  Zeno 
said  in  a  coaxing  tone. 

'Password?'     The  man  looked  up  stupidly. 

The  effort  of  undoing  the  thongs  had  been  too  much 
for  him,  and  had  sent  the  blood  to  his  head.  He  stag 
gered  against  the  Venetian,  and  tried  to  speak.  After 
many  efforts  he  got  the  words  out  suddenly. 

'Drunk,  by  Moses!'  he  cried,  quite  distinctly,  as  he 
fell  in  a  heap  at  Zeno's  feet. 

In  his  vexation  Zeno  could  have  kicked  the  stupid 
mass  of  humanity  across  the  great  yard,  but  he  was  far 
too  wise  to  waste  his  time  so  unprofitably.  Instead  of 


226  ARETHUSA  CHAP. 

kicking  him  he  stepped  across  him,  thrust  his  hands 
under  the  unconscious  man's  armpits,  hove  him  up  like 
a  sack  of  flour,  got  him  over  his  shoulder,  and  carried 
him  to  the  open  door  of  the  nearest  stable,  whence  the 
light  came.  Five  horses  stood  or  lay  in  their  stalls, 
but  the  sixth  stall  was  vacant,  and  there  was  fresh  straw 
in  it.  Zeno  threw  the  man  down  there,  and  looked 
round,  to  see  that  no  one  else  was  in  the  place.  He  hesi 
tated  a  moment  as  to  whether  he  should  shut  the  door, 
but  decided  that  to  do  so  might  attract  the  attention  of 
a  sober  man,  if  there  were  any  about,  which  was  doubtful. 

The  trooper  was  now  sound  asleep,  and  it  was  the  work 
of  a  few  moments  to  pull  off  his  boots  of  soft  leather  and 
slip  them  on,  for  Zeno  had  left  his  own  in  the  boat,  and 
had  walked  in  his  cloth  hose;  he  took  off  the  soldier's 
sword-belt  and  tunic  next,  the  latter  of  rich  scarlet  cloth 
trimmed  with  heavy  silver  lace,  the  belt  being  entirely 
covered  with  silver  scales.  The  drunken  sleeper  grunted 
with  satisfaction  when  he  felt  himself  relieved  of  his 
useless  clothes,  and  settled  himself  comfortably  in  the 
straw  while  Zeno  put  on  the  tunic  over  his  own  buff 
jerkin  and  drew  the  belt  tight  round  his  waist,  settled 
the  man's  tall  Greek  cap  on  his  own  head  at  the  proper 
angle,  as  the  troopers  wore  it,  and  threw  the  military 
cloak  over  his  arm. 

He  could  now  easily  pass  himself  for  a  trooper  at  the 
gate,  and  a  man  who  has  been  a  soldier  is  rarely  at  a 
loss  amongst  soldiers,  especially  if  he  wears  a  uniform. 
In  consideration  of  what  he  had  taken,  Zeno,  who  was 
an  honest  man  of  business,  left  the  man  his  wallet  with 


xi  ARETHUSA  227 

the  piece  of  gold  and  anything  else  it  might  contain,  and 
after  carefully  removing  a  few  wisps  of  straw  that  clung 
to  his  clothes,  he  went  towards  the  door  of  the 
stable. 

His  plan  was  to  saunter  to  the  gate  and  loiter  there 
till  a  chance  offered  of  opening  the  small  night-postern 
in  the  great  door,  which  he  had  noticed  in  passing  the 
palace  when  the  gates  were  open.  The  fact  of  his  being 
sober  when  almost  every  one  else  was  more  or  less  in 
toxicated,  would  give  him  a  great  advantage. 

But  as  he  turned  from  the  sleeper  and  walked  along 
the  line  from  the  empty  stall,  which  was  the  last,  his 
eye  fell  on  the  saddles  and  bridles,  neatly  arranged  on 
stout  pegs  that  projected  from  the  walls,  each  set  op 
posite  the  stall  of  the  horse  to  which  it  belonged.  He 
peered  out  into  the  wide  court,  and  listened  for  the  sound 
of  voices.  From  very  far  away  he  heard  the  echo  of  a 
drinking  chorus,  less  loud  than  the  noise  made  behind 
him  by  one  of  the  horses  that  had  a  fancy  for  a  mouth 
ful  of  hay  just  then,  and  was  chewing  it  conscientiously 
as  only  animals  can  chew. 

All  was  very  quiet  outside.  Zeno  changed  his  plan, 
turned  back  into  the  stable,  and  began  to  saddle  the 
horse  farthest  from  the  door.  He  did  not  mean  to  ride 
far,  else  he  would  have  picked  out  his  mount  with  all  the 
judgment  he  possessed.  There  was  but  a  dash  to  make, 
and  it  was  far  more  important  that  no  passing  trooper 
should  see  him  in  the  act  of  putting  on  saddle  and  bridle 
than  that  he  should  have  the  best  horse  under  him  after 
wards.  Besides,  they  were  all  big,  hay-fed  animals, 


228  ARETHUSA 


CHAP. 


sleek  and  sleepy,  mostly  white  Tunisians,  and  much  more 
fit  for  a  procession  than  a  campaign. 

When  he  had  finished,  he  led  the  charger  past  the 
other  stalls,  stopping  just  before  he  reached  the  door 
to  put  out  the  oil  lamp  that  hung  by  the  entrance. 
This  done,  he  slipped  his  arm  through  the  bridle  and 
left  the  stable.  He  struck  across  the  deserted  court 
towards  the  palace,  until  he  was  almost  in  the  middle 
of  the  yard,  and  opposite  the  great  gate,  towards  which 
he  looked  steadily  for  some  seconds,  trying  to  make  out, 
by  the  uncertain  light  that  dimly  illuminated  it  from 
within,  whether  the  doors  under  the  arch  were  open  or 
shut.  There  was  just  a  possibility  that  they  might 
be  open.  It  was  worth  trying  for;  and  after  all,  if  they 
were  barred,  he  was  sure  that  he  could  impose  upon 
the  sentinels  to  open  them.  A  man  accustomed  to  com 
mand  does  not  doubt  that  he  must  be  obeyed  when  he 
asserts  himself. 

Zeno  mounted  the  big  horse,  which  was  as  quiet  as  any 
old  circus  hack  in  the  Hippodrome,  trained  to  let  a 
dancing-girl  skip  the  rope  on  his  broad  back.  His  rider 
put  him  from  a  walk  to  a  canter,  and  from  a  canter  to  a 
thundering  gallop  that  roused  echoes  all  round  the 
court. 

As  he  came  near  he  saw  that  the  doors  were  shut,  but 
he  did  not  slacken  speed  till  he  was  almost  upon  the 
startled  sentinels.  Then  he  drew  rein  suddenly,  as  was 
the  practice  of  horsemanship  in  those  days,  and  the  great 
Tunisian  threw  himself  back  on  his  haunches  with  out 
stretched  forefeet,  while  Zeno  called  out  to  the  watch. 


xi  AEETHUSA  229 

'On  the  Emperor's  service !'  he  shouted.  "The  gates, 
and  quickly  I ' 

The  sentinels  were  tolerably  sober,  for  they  were 
not  to  get  their  full  share  of  the  flood  of  wine  that  was 
flowing  till  their  guard  was  relieved.  But  they  could 
hardly  be  blamed  for  obeying  Zeno's  imperative  com 
mand.  It  was  not  likely  that  a  guardsman  of  their 
troop  who  wished  to  slip  out  of  barracks  for  a  night's 
amusement  would  dress  himself  in  full  uniform  and  come 
galloping  and  shouting  to  the  gate,  nor  that  any  trooper 
would  dare  to  pretend  that  he  rode  on  the  Emperor's 
business  if  it  were  not  true. 

The  two  sentinels  therefore  did  not  hesitate,  but  set 
their  long  cavalry  lances  upright  against  the  walls  on 
either  side,  took  down  the  bar,  and  laid  hold  of  the  pon 
derous  gates,  each  man  taking  one  and  throwing  himself 
backwards  with  all  his  weight  to  move  it.  When  once 
started,  the  doors  swung  slowly  but  easily  backwards. 
Zeno  sat  motionless  in  the  saddle,  ready  to  dash  forward 
as  soon  as  there  was  room  for  him  to  pass.  He  had  halted 
just  far  enough  away  to  allow  the  doors  to  swing  clear 
of  his  horse's  head  as  they  were  pulled  inward.  It  was 
an  anxious  moment. 

A  second  more  and  there  would  be  space  between  the 
yawning  gates.  But  that  second  had  not  yet  passed 
when  a  tall  officer  in  scarlet  rushed  shouting  from  the 
open  door  of  the  guard-house,  and  seized  Zeno's 
bridle. 

'Stop  him !'  yelled  the  lieutenant.     'Shut  the  gates !' 

The  two  soldiers  did  their  best  to  obey  instantly, 


230  AKETHUSA  CHAP. 

but  the  leaves  of  the  gate  were  of  cypress  wood  four 
inches  thick,  and  covered  with  bronze,  and  were  swinging 
back  faster  now  under  the  impulse  they  had  received. 
It  was  impossible  to  check  them  suddenly,  and  the  order 
was  hardly  spoken  when  Zeno  saw  that  there  was  room 
to  ride  through. 

He  would  have  given  his  fortune  for  a  pair  of  Arab 
spurs  at  that  moment,  but  he  struck  the  corners  of  his 
heels  at  the  horse's  sides  with  all  his  might,  and  almost 
lifted  him  by  the  bridle  at  the  same  time.  The  big 
Tunisian  answered  the  call  upon  his  strength  better  than 
the  rider  had  dared  to  hope;  he  gathered  himself  and 
lifted  his  forequarters,  shaking  his  head  savagely  to  get 
rid  of  the  hands  that  grasped  the  off  rein  close  to  the 
bit,  and  then  he  dashed  forwards,  straight  between  the 
doors,  throwing  the  officer  to  the  ground  and  dragging 
him  violently  away  in  the  powerful  stride  of  his  heavy 
gallop. 

Seeing  what  had  happened  the  sentinels  started  in 
pursuit  at  full  speed,  following  the  sound  of  the  charger's 
shoes  on  the  cobble-stones  rather  than  anything  they 
could  see,  for  it  was  as  dark  as  pitch  outside. 

The  officer,  who  was  very  active  and  seemed  indifferent 
to  the  frightful  risk  he  ran,  still  clung  to  the  bridle,  re 
gained  his  feet,  ran  nimbly  by  the  side  of  the  galloping 
horse,  and  seemed  about  to  spring  up  and  close  with  Zeno 
to  drag  him  from  the  saddle.  Zeno  had  no  weapon  within 
reach  now,  for  his  knife  was  in  his  own  belt,  under  the 
belted  tunic  he  wore  over  his  clothes,  and  he  could  not 
possibly  get  at  it.  But  the  officer  was  unarmed,  too, 


xi  ARETHUSA  231 

as  he  had  sprung  from  his  couch,  and  was  at  a  great  dis 
advantage  on  foot. 

They  dashed  on  into  the  darkness  of  the  broad  street. 
Zeno  bent  down,  and  tried  to  get  at  his  adversary's 
collar  with  his  right  hand,  but  the  officer  dodged  him  and 
jerked  the  bridle  with  desperate  energy,  bringing  the 
Tunisian  to  a  stand  after  one  more  furious  plunge. 
At  the  same  instant  Zeno  heard  the  footsteps  of  the  two 
guardsmen  running  up  behind,  and  he  realised  that  the 
odds  were  three  to  one  against  him,  and  that  he  had  no 
weapon  in  his  hand.  The  troopers,  of  course,  had  their 
Greek  sabres.  If  he  could  not  escape,  he  must  either 
be  taken  alive  or  cut  to  pieces  on  the  spot,  with  no  defence 
but  his  bare  hands. 

He  did  not  hesitate.  The  officer,  dragging  down  the 
charger's  head  by  his  weight  to  stop  him,  was  almost  on 
his  knees  for  a  moment,  on  the  off  side,  of  course,  and  the 
soldiers  had  not  yet  come  up.  Zeno  dropped  the  reins, 
sprang  from  the  saddle,  and  ran  for  his  life. 


CHAPTER  XII 

ZOE  sat  in  the  dark  just  within  the  open  doorway 
of  Zeno's  house,  before  the  marble  steps.  She  was 
shivering  with  cold,  now  that  the  danger  to  herself 
was  over,  and  she  was  bent  with  pain,  though  she 
scarcely  knew  she  was  hurt;  for  she  was  conscious 
only  of  her  anxiety  for  Zeno.  If  he  got  out  of  the  tower 
and  reached  his  home,  he  would  certainly  come  in  by  that 
door,  since  he  had  left  it  open,  and  the  one  on  the  land 
side  was  barred;  and  there  was  a  way  of  coming  round 
the  house  to  the  water's  edge  without  entering  the  gate 
or  passing  through  the  fore-court. 

Zeno  had  unconsciously  stepped  upon  her  body  with 
his  whole  weight  in  getting  out,  when  she  lay  hidden  in 
the  bottom  of  the  boat,  but  she  would  rather  have  died 
than  have  made  a  sound  or  winced  under  the  pressure. 
And  now  her  side  hurt  her,  and  the  pain  ran  down  to 
her  knee  and  her  foot,  so  that  she  had  hardly  been  able  to 
walk  after  Gorlias  had  helped  her  ashore. 

It  had  been  impossible  to  hinder  her  from  getting  in, 
when  she  had  run  down  to  the  landing  while  Zeno  was 
changing  his  clothes ;  there  had  not  been  time,  and  she 
had  not  waited  to  argue  the  question,  but  had  simply 
whispered  to  Gorlias  that  she  was  going,  and  that  he 
must  hide  her  as  well  as  he  could,  and  say  nothing. 

232 


CHAP,  xii  AKETHUSA  233 

He  was  not  a  man  to  be  easily  surprised,  and  he  reflected 
that  as  she  was  in  the  secret,  and  as  it  was  her  influence 
that  had  decided  Zeno  to  act  at  last,  she  might  possibly 
be  useful;  as  indeed  she  afterwards  proved  herself  to 
be.  Besides,  Gorlias  thought  it  likely  that  Zeno  had  told 
her  all  his  plans,  although  he  did  not  wish  to  take  her 
with  him;  for  the  astrologer  was  not  at  all  clear  as  to 
the  relations  existing  between  the  master  and  the 
slave. 

She  sat  alone  and  shivering  in  the  dark.  Gorlias 
had  left  her  and  had  hastened  back  to  the  foot  of  the 
tower  to  remove  all  traces  of  the  unsuccessful  attempt 
before  daybreak,  by  throwing  the  dead  body  into  the 
water  with  a  weight,  and  carrying  off  the  gear  that  had 
been  left  lying  on  the  sloping  pier.  Zoe  thought  he  must 
be  of  iron.  He  had  been  some  time  in  the  water  in  his 
clothes,  and  had  probably  been  more  or  less  bruised  in 
the  struggle,  and  in  rolling  down  the  stones,  if  not  by 
the  fall  at  the  end.  But  he  seemed  as  calm  and  collected 
as  ever,  and  apparently  had  no  idea  of  drying  himself 
before  morning. 

Zoe  thought  of  him  only  very  vaguely  as  of  a  person 
connected  with  Zeno,  round  whom  alone  the  whole 
world  had  moved  since  she  had  known  that  he  loved  her ; 
and  in  her  imagination  she  followed  him  on  after  he  had 
reached  the  tower  window  the  second  time  and  had 
whistled  the  call  that  told  her  he  was  safe  so  far. 

It  was  agonising  to  think  of  his  danger.  She  did  not 
believe  that  he  could  possibly  escape  from  within  the 
prison  through  the  palace  precincts;  in  some  way  or 


234  AKETHUSA  CHAP. 

other  he  must  succeed  in  climbing  down  the  wall  again, 
and  Gorlias  would  find  him  and  bring  him  home.  But 
when  she  had  said  this  to  the  astrologer,  he  had  shaken 
his  head.  There  were  good  reasons  why  Zeno  should  not 
attempt  the  perilous  descent  that  night,  when  there  had 
just  been  an  alarm  from  below  of  which  it  was  not  possible 
to  let  him  know  the  result.  Moreover,  no  one  knew 
whether  the  man  whom  Zoe  had  struck  had  sunk  and 
was  drowned,  or  had  parried  the  blow  with  his  arm  and 
had  succeeded  in  swimming  ashore.  Neither  Gorlias  nor 
Zoe  knew  that  yet,  and  they  might  never  know  it. 

She  waited,  but  not  a  sound  disturbed  the  silence 
of  the  chilly  night.  Within  the  house  every  one  was 
sleeping;  the  two  little  slave-girls,  curled  up  on  their 
carpet  in  the  corner,  where  Zoe  had  left  them,  would  not 
wake  till  dawn;  Omobono  slept  the  sleep  of  the  just 
in  his  small  bedroom  behind  the  counting-house,  dream 
ing  of  the  mysteries  of  four  toes  and  five  toes,  and  quench 
ing  his  insatiable  curiosity  at  last  in  the  overflowing 
fountain  of  fancy.  As  for  the  servants  and  slaves,  all 
slumbered  profoundly,  after  the  way  of  their  kind. 

But  Zeno  did  not  come.  Zoe  crouched  in  the  door 
way,  and  drew  the  skirts  of  her  long  Greek  coat  round 
her  little  white  feet  more  than  half  instinctively,  for  she 
did  not  care  if  she  died  of  the  cold,  since  he  did  not 
come. 

A  mad  longing  seized  her  to  go  out  into  the  city  to 
look  for  him  in  the  dark  and  silent  streets;  he  might 
be  lying  somewhere,  wounded  and  alone,  perhaps  left 
for  dead ;  if  she  did  not  come  upon  him  she  would  push 


xii  AKETHUSA  235 

on  to  the  great  gate  of  Blachernae ;  and  she  was  sure  that 
she  could  find  the  way,  though  it  was  far.  She  would 
slip  in,  unnoticed  by  the  sentries;  she  would  pass  her 
self  for  a  woman  of  the  palace,  where  she  had  often  been 
taken  by  Kyria  Agatha  in  the  happy  days ;  she  remem 
bered  where  the  great  tower  stood  in  the  corner  of  the 
palace  yard,  the  farthest  corner  to  the  right,  and  she 
could  almost  see  its  door,  though  indeed  she  had  never 
noticed  one.  He  was  somewhere  behind  it,  somewhere 
in  there,  above  or  below  ground,  caught  in  the  trap, 
waiting  for  the  dawn  of  his  dying  day.  For  Andronicus 
would  not  let  him  live.  If  he  was  taken,  his  hours  were 
numbered.  He  must  die  the  death  Michael  Rhangabe 
had  died;  there  was  none  more  cruel. 

As  she  thought  of  it,  there  alone  in  the  cold,  a  sharp 
pain  bit  at  her  heart,  and  in  the  gloom  she  could  no 
longer  make  out  the  white  marble  steps,  the  chequered 
black-and-white  pavement,  nor  the  last  unextinguished 
lights  of  Pera  reflected  in  the  water;  she  saw  nothing, 
and  she  sank  back  against  the  step  behind  her,  fainting 
and  unconscious. 

She  lay  there  alone,  quite  still;  but  he  did  not  come. 
When  she  opened  her  eyes  again  she  thought  she  had 
fallen  asleep,  and  was  angry  with  herself  at  the  thought 
of  having  rested  while  he  was  in  danger  of  his  life.  She 
would  go  out  to  find  him,  come  what  might.  Then  she 
tried  to  get  upon  her  feet,  and  was  startled  to  find  that 
she  could  not.  Chilled  to  the  bone  and  bruised  as 
she  was,  she  could  not  move  her  limbs,  and  she  wondered 
in  terror  whether  she  were  paralysed.  But  she  was  brave 


236  ARETHUSA  CHAP. 

still,  and  after  a  time  she  managed  to  turn  on  one  side, 
and  with  her  hands  on  the  cold  step  she  laboriously  got 
upon  her  knees.  Sensation  came  back  and  pain  with  it, 
and  presently  she  was  able  to  raise  herself  by  holding 
the  edge  of  the  door,  first  on  one  knee,  then  on  her  feet. 
But  that  was  all,  and  she  knew  that  she  could  do  no 
more.  Perhaps  she  might  crawl  upstairs  by  and  by, 
after  resting  a  little. 

She  stood  still  a  long  time,  holding  the  door  and  hesi 
tating,  for  in  her  intense  anxiety  it  seemed  impossible 
to  think  of  giving  up  and  going  to  bed.  He  must  come. 
It  would  be  late,  it  might  be  daylight,  but  he  must  come ; 
for  if  he  came  not,  that  could  only  mean  that  he  was 
taken,  and  if  he  was  taken  he  must  die. 

Again  the  pain  bit  savagely  at  her  heart,  but  she  set 
her  lips  and  grasped  the  door  with  both  hands,  and 
refused  to  let  herself  faint. 

She  could  at  least  rouse  Omobono  and  the  household 
to  go  out  and  search  for  the  master.  She  had  almost 
let  go  of  the  door  to  make  the  first  step  forward,  when 
the  counter-thought  checked  her.  The  attempt  to 
free  the  Emperor  had  been  "made  very  secretly;  if  she 
called  the  secretary,  the  servants,  the  slaves,  she  would 
be  revealing  that  secret,  and  if,  by  some  miracle,  Zeno 
were  still  free  and  safe,  some  one  might  betray  him. 
Some  one  must  have  betrayed  him  already,  else  the 
watch  would  not  have  come  upon  him  exactly  at  the 
most  critical  moment.  The  three  men  had  been  lurking 
near,  waiting  till  he  was  on  the  rope  the  second  time, 
and  expecting  to  catch  him  in  the  very  act  of  bringing 


xn  ARETHUSA  237 

out  the  prisoner.  Who  was  the  traitor?  Most  prob 
ably  some  one  in  the  house.  It  would  not  be  wise  to 
call  the  servants,  after  all. 

The  hopelessness  of  it  all  came  over  the  lonely  girl 
now,  and  she  almost  let  herself  sink  down  again  upon 
the  steps  to  wait  till  daylight,  if  need  be,  for  the  awful 
news  that  was  sure  to  reach  her  only  too  soon.  Gorlias 
would  bring  it,  and  no  one  else. 

But  she  was  too  proud  to  give  way  altogether,  unless 
she  fainted  outright.  It  was  torture,  but  she  would 
bear  it,  as  he  would  if  he  were  taken.  Perhaps  at  that 
very  moment  they  were  questioning  him  before  Androni- 
cus,  twisting  his  handsome  limbs  till  the  joints  cracked, 
or  holding  red-hot  irons  close  to  his  blistering  feet. 
He  would  set  his  teeth  and  turn  white,  but  he  would  not 
speak ;  he  would  be  torn  piecemeal  and  die,  but  his  tor 
mentors  would  not  get  a  word  from  him,  not  a  syllable. 
Again  and  again,  she  felt  the  pain  in  imagination;  but 
she  wished  that  she  could  indeed  feel  it  for  him,  and  be 
in  his  place  at  that  moment,  if  he  were  suffering.  The 
pain  would  be  less,  even  the  pain  of  the  rack  and  the 
glowing  irons,  than  the  agony  of  being  powerless  to  help 
him. 

Now,  the  time  seemed  endless;  now,  again,  an  hour 
passed  quickly  in  a  waking  dream,  wherein  Zeno  was 
vividly  before  her,  and  she  lived  again  the  moments 
that  had  taught  her  the  truth  in  the  touch  of  his  lips. 
Then,  the  world  was  dark  once  more  and  she  was  alone 
and  shivering,  and  mad  with  anxiety  for  the  one  living 
thing  she  loved. 


238  ARETHUSA  CHAP. 

He  did  not  come.  The  northern  stars  sank  to  the 
west  and  he  did  not  come;  they  touched  the  horizon, 
yet  he  did  not  come;  an  icy  breath  foreran  the  coming 
dawn,  and  still  he  came  not,  but  still  Zoe  waited. 

Then  the  stars  faded,  and  the  sky  was  less  black,  and 
she  thought  day  was  coming ;  but  it  was  the  faint  light 
of  the  waning  moon  rising  above  the  Bosphorus.  It  was 
not  light,  now,  but  the  thick  darkness  had  become  trans 
parent;  it  was  possible  to  see  through  it,  and  Zoe  saw 
a  skiff  come  silently  alongside  the  landing.  It  was  Gor- 
lias;  he  moored  the  craft  quickly  and  came  up  the  steps. 
Zoe  had  recognised  his  outline,  because  she  expected 
him,  and  she  made  a  step  to  meet  him,  though  it  hurt 
her  very  much  to  move.  He  came  quickly  and  securely, 
as  men  do  who  can  see  at  night,  like  cats  and  wild  ani 
mals  ;  when  he  was  near,  Zoe  even  fancied  that  his  eyes 
emitted  a  faint  light  of  their  own  in  the  dark,  but  her 
imagination  was  no  doubt  disturbed  by  her  bodily  pain 
and  terrible  mental  anxiety. 

'Has  he  not  come  yet?'  Gorlias  asked  in  a  low 
tone. 

The  question  could  only  mean  that  Zeno  was  taken, 
and  Zoe  grasped  the  astrologer's  arm  in  sudden  fear. 

'He  is  lost!'  she  exclaimed.  'They  will  kill  him  to 
morrow  ! ' 

'It  is  not  easy  to  kill  Carlo  Zeno/  answered  Gorlias, 
rubbing  his  stiffened  hands,  and  then  slowly  pulling 
each  finger  in  succession  till  the  joints  cracked.  'He  is 
not  dead  yet,'  he  added. 

'  Not  yet ! '  echoed  Zoe  despairingly. 


xii  AKETHUSA  239 

'No/  said  Gorlias,  'for  he  got  out  of  the  palace.' 

'Got  out  ?  You  are  sure  ?'  Zoe  could  have  screamed 
for  joy;  the  revulsion  was  almost  too  sudden. 

'Yes,  I  am  sure  of  that.  There  is  a  search  for  him 
in  all  the  quarters  about  the  palace.  When  I  had  cleared 
everything  away  below  the  tower,  I  dropped  down 
stream  to  a  quiet  place  I  know,  and  went  ashore  to  learn 
what  I  could.  The  great  gate  of  Blachernse  was  open, 
the  court  was  full  of  lights,  and  the  guards  had  been  called 
out.  Half  of  them  were  reeling  about,  still  very  drunk, 
but  I  met  many  that  were  more  sober,  searching  the 
streets  and  lanes  with  lanterns.  I  lingered  till  the  same 
party  found  me  twice  and  looked  at  me  suspiciously,  and 
then  I  slipped  away  again  and  came  here.  I  do  not 
believe  any  of  them  know  whom  they  are  looking  for; 
they  have  only  been  told  that  some  one  has  broken  out  of 
the  palace,  I  suppose.  That  made  me  think  that  Zeno 
had  come  quietly  home,  quite  sure  that  he  had  not  been 
recognised.' 

Gorlias  told  his  story  in  the  low,  monotonous  tone 
peculiar  to  him,  which  seemed  to  express  the  most  perfect 
indifference  to  anything  that  might  happen.  But  Zoe 
cared  nothing  for  his  way  of  telling  what  was  just  then 
the  best  possible  news.  Zeno  was  not  safe  yet,  but  she 
knew  him  well  enough  to  feel  sure  that  if  he  had  not  been 
taken  within  the  palace,  he  had  little  to  fear.  Sooner 
or  later  he  would  come  home,  as  if  nothing  had  happened. 
Gorlias  understood  her  sigh  of  relief. 

'You  must  go  in  and  rest,  Kokona/  he  said,  and  he 
quietly  pushed  her  towards  the  door.  {I  will  watch  till 


240  ARETHTJSA 


CHAP. 


daylight  in  the  boat,  in  case  he  should  come  and  need 
anything.' 

She  could  hardly  walk,  and  he  now  noticed  her  lame 
ness  for  the  first  time,  and  asked  the  cause  of  it. 

'He  stepped  on  me  when  I  was  lying  under  the  canvas/ 
she  answered.  'But  it  is  nothing/  she  added  quietly. 
'I  hardly  felt  anything  at  first.' 

'I  will  carry  you/  said  Gorlias. 

Before  she  could  prevent  him,  he  had  lifted  her  in  his 
arms  and  was  carrying  her  into  the  house.  He  knew 
the  way  up  to  her  apartment,  having  been  to  see  her 
there,  and  he  stepped  easily  and  surely  with  his  burden, 
his  bare  feet  hardly  making  any  sound  on  the  marble 
steps.  She  lay  across  his  arms  like  a  thing  without 
weight,  borne  along  as  a  maid  carries  a  fresh  gown  that 
she  is  afraid  of  ruffling.  But  the  man's  arms  and  clothes 
were  wet  and  cold,  and  even  his  breath  chilled  her. 

Her  nerves  were  overwrought,  and  she  was  foolishly 
frightened  now.  The  stairs  were  very  dark,  and  the 
touch  of  the  man  who  carried  her  was  like  that  of  a  wet 
monster  of  night,  cold  and  horribly  strong,  holding  her 
and  carrying  her  in  his  vast  arms  as  the  autumn  night 
wind  whirls  the  leaves  along.  He  never  paused  for 
breath,  he  never  stopped  to  try  and  see  the  steps  under 
his  feet ;  he  only  went  on  and  up,  up,  up,  till  she  fancied 
she  was  not  in  Zeno's  house,  but  in  some  high  and  mys 
terious  tower  to  which  she  had  been  suddenly  transported 
by  an  awful  being  from  another  world  who  was  taking 
her  to  the  top  and  would  hurl  her  from  the  highest  turret 
into  space. 


XII 


ABETHUSA  241 


But  now  Gorlias  stood  still  and  set  her  on  her  feet 
at  her  own  door,  steadying  her  by  her  shoulders,  and 
guiding  her  in,  for  he-  could  see  the  ray  of  light  that 
crept  out  between  the  curtain  and  the  doorpost  of  the 
inner  entrance. 

He  lifted  the  heavy  stuff  and  still  supported  her  with 
his  other  hand.  After  being  so  long  in  the  dark  the  light 
of  the  little  lamps  was  dazzling,  though  they  were  burn 
ing  low.  Three  or  four  of  them  had  already  gone  out, 
and  the  acrid  smell  of  the  burnt-out  olive-oil  and  the 
singed  wicks  hung  in  the  air. 

Gorlias  watched  Zoe  while  she  limped  over  the  thick 
carpet  to  the  divan,  and  he  saw  her  sink  down  there 
exhausted,  and  draw  a  heavy  silk  shawl  across  her  body. 

'Thank  you/  she  sighed,  as  her  weary  head  pressed  the 
pillow  at  last. 

But  he  had  already  dropped  the  curtain  again  and 
was  gone,  and  almost  at  the  same  instant  she  shut  her 
eyes  and  fell  asleep. 

Gorlias  reached  the  bottom  of  the  stairs  without 
waking  any  one,  closed  the  door,  which  he  could  not 
fasten,  and  got  into  his  boat  to  wait  for  Zeno  until  day 
break,  and  also  to  watch  lest  any  one  should  try  to 
enter  the  house. 

But  no  one  came,  neither  Zeno,  nor  any  messenger 
from  him,  nor  any  stealthy  thief ;  and  at  last  the  dawn 
rose  behind  Constantinople  and  dissolved  the  night,  and 
the  poor  waning  moon  had  not  much  light  left  and  al 
most  went  out  altogether  as  the  day  broke.  Then 
Gorlias  drew  his  oars  inboard,  and  laid  them  across  the 


242  AKETHUSA  CHAP,  xn 

boat  before  him,  leaning  his  elbows  on  them  and  resting 
his  chin  upon  his  folded  hands,  like  a  man  in  deep 
thought ;  and  he  let  the  craft  drift  slowly  away  towards 
the  Bosphorus,  into  the  morning  mist. 

Also,  the  dawn  crept  into  the  house  between  the  half- 
closed  shutters  of  Zoe  room  and  made  the  lingering  flame 
of  the  last  lamp  seem  but  a  smoky  little  yellow  point 
in  the  cold  clearness ;  and  the  girl's  pale  face,  that  had 
taken  a  golden  tinge  from  the  lamplight,  now  turned  as 
white  as  silver. 

Also,  the  coming  sun  waked  Omobono,  and  he  sat 
up  in  bed  and  gravely  rubbed  his  eyes,  quite  unaware  that 
anything  had  happened  during  the  night ;  and  it  roused 
the  slaves  and  the  servants,  and  presently  all  the  house 
was  astir;  and  Yulia  and  Lucilla  got  up  too  and  came 
softly  and  stood  beside  Zoe,  who  did  not  stir,  and  they 
wondered  at  her  deep  sleep  and  at  the  weariness  of  her 
face,  and  at  the  look  of  pain  all  about  her  mouth. 

But  where  Zeno  was  the  light  did  not  enter ;  for  dawn 
and  sunset,  and  noon  and  midnight  were  all  alike  there. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

WHEN  Zeno  slipped  from  his  borrowed  charger  and  ran 
for  his  life  towards  that  part  of  the  square  that  looked 
darkest,  he  had  no  time  to  choose  the  direction  he  would 
afterwards  take,  nor  to  think  of  anything  but  covering 
the  ground  at  the  greatest  possible  speed  without  stum 
bling  over  an  unseen  obstacle.  On  those  singular  occa 
sions  when  a  perfectly  brave  man  has  no  choice  but  to 
run,  there  is  not  much  time  to  spare. 

The  young  Venetian  strained  his  strength  and  his 
wind  to  get  as  far  as  he  could  from  his  pursuers  in  the 
shortest  possible  time,  and  he  was  so  successful  that  he 
was  out  of  their  reach  almost  before  they  were  aware 
that  he  had  fled. 

At  first  he  had  run  straight  across  the  wide  open  space 
before  Blachernse ;  he  had  then  found  the  entrance  to  a 
street  which  he  had  followed  for  about  fifty  yards,  and 
he  had  turned  a  corner  to  his  left  without  meeting  any 
one ;  he  had  rushed  on  without  pausing  till  he  judged  it 
time  to  double  again  and  had  then  turned  to  the  right. 
A  few  steps  farther  on,  he  stopped  short  and  listened, 
believing  himself  alone  and  not  at  all  sure  where  he  was. 

Suddenly  a  light  flashed  in  his  face,  very  near  him. 

'Is  it  time?'  asked  a  low  voice  in  Greek,  and  the 
lantern  was  closed  again,  leaving  him  dazzled. 

243 


244  ARETHUSA 


CHAP. 


Accident,  or  his  fate,  had  taken  him  into  the  very 
midst  of  the  men  he  had  enlisted  in  the  cause  of  the 
revolution,  to  storm  the  palace  before  daybreak.  They 
had  waited  two  hours  and  were  impatient,  and  even 
before  Zeno  answered  the  question  they  saw  that  mat 
ters  had  gone  ill  with  him. 

'There  is  an  alarm,'  he  said  hurriedly.  'I  barely  got 
away.  Disperse  quickly,  and  get  to  your  quarters,  all 
of  you !  I  will  let  you  know  when  we  can  do  it.' 

A  murmur  of  discontent  came  from  the  invisible  crowd 
of  soldiers.  Zeno  knew  them  to  be  a  desperate  crew, 
who  would  hold  him  responsible  for  failure,  and  would 
not  thank  him  for  success. 

'We  must  separate  at  once/  he  said  calmly.  'I  thank 
you  for  having  been  ready.  If  possible,  we  will  meet 
a  week  from  to-night.' 

He  did  not  choose  to  let  them  know  that  Johannes 
himself  had  refused  to  quit  the  tower,  and  he  was  about 
to  leave  them,  meaning  to  find  his  way  home  alone, 
when  the  sound  of  feet  moving  behind  him,  and  of  men 
whispering  together  told  him  that  he  was  surrounded 
on  all  sides  by  the  soldiers.  Then  some  one  spoke  in  a 
tone  of  authority. 

'You  must  stay  with  us,'  the  voice  said.  'You  have 
our  lives  in  your  hand,  and  we  cannot  let  you  go.  It 
might  suit  your  interests  to  give  us  up  to  the  Emperor 
any  day.' 

Seeing  his  liberty  threatened,  Zeno  laid  his  hand  to  the 
knife  at  the  back  of  his  belt  and  was  about  to  try  and 
break  his  way  through.  In  the  dark,  a  man  with  a 


xin  ARETHUSA  245 

drawn  weapon  in  his  hand  easily  inspires  terror  in  a 
crowd.  But  it  was  clear  that  the  soldiers  had  deter 
mined  beforehand  what  to  do,  for  they  closed  in  upon 
him  instantly,  and  his  arm  was  caught  by  a  dozen  hands 
when  he  was  in  the  very  act  of  drawing  his  knife.  He 
was  held  by  twenty  men,  as  it  seemed  to  him,  who  all 
took  hold  of  him  and  lifted  him  from  the  ground,  not 
very  roughly,  but  irresistibly.  He  had  no  chance  against 
so  many;  Gorlias  Pietrogliant  himself  could  have  done 
nothing,  and  he  was  far  stronger  than  Zeno,  stronger 
perhaps  than  any  man  in  Constantinople. 

Zeno  knew  that  it  would  be  worse  than  useless  to  shout 
for  help ;  at  his  first  cry  he  would  most  likely  be  strangled 
by  men  whose  own  lives  were  more  or  less  at  stake. 
They  carried  him  quickly  along  the  street  and  through 
unfamiliar  and  narrow  ways  which  he  could  hardly  have 
recognised  even  in  broad  daylight,  much  less  at  night. 
They  turned  sharp  corners  to  the  right,  to  the  left, 
to  the  right  again,  and  he  thought  he  could  distinguish 
the  broken  outlines  of  a  ruined  wall  against  the  faint 
grey  ness  of  the  ink-and- water  sky. 

Then  all  was  dark  for  an  instant,  and  he  felt  that  his 
bearers  were  pausing  at  some  obstacle  or  difficulty.  The 
lantern  flashed  again,  and  he  saw  a  rough  vault  above 
him ;  there  was  a  big  cobweb  just  above  his  head,  and  a 
loathsome  fat  spider  jumped  out  of  a  crevice  and  ran 
along  the  threads  till  it  disappeared  as  if  by  magic  in  the 
very  middle  of  the  web.  He  saw  it  in  an  instant  in  the 
sudden  light  as  some  one  held  up  the  lantern  to  show  the 
way.  Such  things  take  hold  of  the  memory  and  stick 


246  ARETHUSA  CHAP. 

to  it  afterwards,  as  little  burs  fasten  themselves  upon 
one's  clothes  in  autumn  fields.  Besides,  though  Zeno 
was  one  of  the  bravest  men  of  any  age,  he  detested  fat 
spiders,  and  was  very  nearly  afraid  of  them. 

He  felt  himself  carried  down  an  inclined  plane  at  a 
swinging  rate ;  the  air  smelt  of  dry  earth,  and  presently 
it  grew  much  warmer,  though  it  was  not  at  all  close.  It 
seemed  a  long  time  until  the  men  stopped,  set  him  on 
his  feet,  and  left  their  hold  on  him.  The  man  who  had 
acted  as  the  leader  now  pushed  the  others  aside,  and  stood 
before  him,  a  broad-shouldered  Tartar  with  a  huge  tawny 
beard,  dressed  in  leather  and  wearing  a  breastplate 
embossed  with  the  Roman  eagle.  Zeno  knew  him  well  ; 
he  was  a  Mohammedan,  like  many  soldiers  of  fortune 
in  the  Greek  army  at  that  time,  his  name  was  Tock- 
tamish,  and  he  had  been  with  Zeno  in  Patras.  He  spoke 
a  barbarous  dialect,  compounded  of  Greek  and  Italian. 

'Messer  Zeno/  he  said,  'we  are  not  going  to  hurt  you, 
but  we  think  it  better  for  your  own  safety  to  keep  you 
here  for  a  while,  till  everything  is  quiet  again.  Do  you 
understand  ? ' 

'Perfectly/  Zeno  answered,  with  a  laugh.  'Nothing 
could  be  clearer !  You  naturally  suppose  that  if  I 
found  myself  in  danger  I  would  turn  evidence  against 
you  to  save  myself,  and  you  propose  to  make  that 
impossible.' 

Tocktamish  pretended  to  be  hurt. 

'How  can  you  think  that  I  could  take  my  old  leader 
for  a  traitor,  sir?'  he  asked. 

'The  idea  would  occur  naturally  to  a  man  of  your 


XIII 


ARETHUSA  247 


intelligence/  Zeno  answered,  laughing  again.  'Listen 
to  me,  man.  I  am  a  soldier,  and  I  do  not  take  you  for 
a  flight  of  angels  or  heavenly  doves  settling  round  me 
for  my  consolation.  You  are  an  infernal  deal  more  like 
a  pack  of  wolves!  So  let  us  be  plain,  as  wolves  gen 
erally  are  when  they  are  hungry.  You  joined  me  because 
you  hoped  to  be  plundering  the  palace  by  this  time. 
As  that  has  failed,  you  want  something  instead.  You 
know  very  well  that  I  am  not  the  man  to  betray  a  com 
rade,  and  that  if  I  am  free  I  shall  probably  get  Johannes 
out  of  his  prison  in  the  end.  But  you  expect  something 
now.  How  much  do  you  want?' 

The  Tartar  looked  down  sheepishly  and  passed  his 
thumb  round  the  lower  edge  of  his  corselet,  backwards 
and  forwards,  as  if  he  were  slowly  polishing  the 
steel. 

'Come/  continued  Zeno,  'what  is  the  use  of  hanging 
back?  As  I  could  not  succeed  in  turning  you  all  into 
patriots  to-night  and  regenerators  of  your  country,  you 
have,  of  course,  turned  yourselves  into  bandits;  you 
have  got  me  a  prisoner,  and  you  want  a  ransom.  How 
much  is  it  to  be?' 

Tocktamish  still  hesitated,  feeling  very  much  ashamed 
of  himself  before  his  old  captain. 

'Well,  sir,  you  see  —  there  are  eight  hundred  of  us 
—  and ' 

'And  if  any  one  gets  less  than  the  rest  he  will  sell  all 
your  skins  to  Andronicus  for  the  balance/  laughed 
Zeno.  'Quite  right,  too!  I  love  justice  above  all 
things.' 


248  AKETHUSA  CHAP. 

'Then  give  us  ten  ducats  each/  cried  the  clear  voice 
of  a  Greek  from  the  background. 

'Ten  ducats  apiece  will  make  eight  thousand/  said 
Zeno.  'I  am  sorry,  but  I  have  not  so  much  money  at 
my  disposal.' 

'You  can  borrow/  answered  the  Greek. 

'I  am  afraid  not,  my  friend.'  He  turned  to  the  Tartar 
leader  again.  'You  are  a  fool,  Tocktamish/  he  said 
calmly.  'As  long  as  you  keep  me  here  I  cannot  get 
money  at  all.  Do  you  suppose  that  we  merchants  put 
away  thousands  of  ducats  in  strong  boxes  under  our 
beds?  If  we  did  that,  you  would  have  broken  into 
our  houses  long  ago,  to  help  yourselves!' 

'What  promise  will  you  make,  sir?'  inquired  the 
Tartar,  beginning  to  waver. 

But  half-a-dozen  voices  protested. 

'No  promises!'  they  cried.  'Let  him  send  you  for 
the  money!' 

'You  hear  them?'  said  Tocktamish. 

'Yes/  answered  Zeno,  'I  hear  them.  Their  nonsense 
will  not  change  facts.  If  you  had  the  souls  of  mice  in 
your  miserable  bodies/  he  continued,  turning  to  the 
men  with  a  contemptuous  little  laugh,  '  you  would  come 
with  me  now  and  seize  the  palace.  The  gates  are  open, 
and  the  guards  are  all  beastly  drunk.  There  will  be 
more  than  eight  thousand  ducats  to  divide  there ! ' 

The  men  were  silent ;  many  shook  their  heads. 

'The  moment  is  passed/  answered  the  Tartar,  speak 
ing  for  them.  'The  whole  city  is  roused  by  this  time.7 

'We  shall  have  so  many  more  good  men  to  help  us, 


XIII 


ARETHUSA  249 


then/  Zeno  said.  'Not  that  we  need  any  one.  A  hand 
ful  could  do  the  work.' 

'Send  for  the  money!'  cried  the  voice  of  the  Greek 
again. 

'I  have  told  you  that  I  have  not  got  it/  Zeno  answered. 
'If  you  have  nothing  more  sensible  to  say,  go  to  your 
quarters  and  let  me  sleep.' 

'  Pleasant  dreams ! '  jeered  the  Greek ;  and  several 
men  laughed. 

'I  hope  my  dreams  will  be  pleasant,  for  I  am  extremely 
sleepy/  Zeno  answered  carelessly.  '  If  you  cut  my  throat 
before  I  wake  you  will  get  nothing  at  all,  not  even  my 
funeral  expenses !  Now  good-night,  and  be  off ! ' 

'We  had  better  leave  him/  Tocktamish  said,  pushing 
the  nearest  men  away.  'You  will  get  nothing  at  present, 
and  it  is  impossible  to  frighten  him.  But  he  cannot 
get  out,  as  you  know.  It  is  for  our  own  safety,  sir/  he 
added,  changing  his  tone  as  he  addressed  Zeno.  'We 
cannot  let  you  out  till  the  city  is  quiet  again,  but  you 
shall  lack  nothing.  There  are  two  cloaks  for  you  to 
sleep  on  and  for  covering  yourself,  and  I  will  bring  you 
food  and  drink,  and  anything  you  want,  in  the  morning.' 

Zeno  had  found  time  to  look  about  him  during  the 
conversation,  as  far  as  the  light  of  the  lanterns  and  the 
men  who  crowded  upon  him  allowed  him  to  see.  He 
had  understood  very  soon  that  he  was  not  in  the  cellar 
of  a  ruined  house,  as  he  had  at  first  supposed,  but  in  one 
of  those  great  disused  cisterns,  of  which  there  are  several 
in  Constantinople,  and  of  which  two  may  still  be  seen. 
Centuries  had  passed  since  there  had  been  water  in  this 


250  ABETHUSA  CHAP. 

one,  and  the  dust  lay  thick  on  the  paved  floor.  Two 
or  three  score  columns  of  grey  marble  supported  the 
high  vaulted  roof,  hi  which  Zeno  guessed  that  there  was 
no  longer  any  visible  opening  to  the  outer  air.  Yet  air 
there  was,  in  abundance,  for  it  entered  by  the  narrow 
entrance  through  which  Zeno  had  been  carried  in,  and 
probably  found  its  way  out  through  the  disused  aqueduct 
which  had  once  supplied  the  water,  and  which  still 
communicated  with  some  distant  exit.  Zeno  could  only 
guess  at  this  from  his  experience  of  fortresses,  which 
always  contained  some  similar  cistern ;  every  one  he  had 
seen  was  provided  with  openings,  almost  always  both 
at  the  top ;  a  few  had  staircases  in  order  that  men  might 
more  conveniently  go  down  to  clean  them  when  they 
were  empty. 

His  captors  left  him  reluctantly  at  the  bidding  of  their 
chief.  They  set  one  lantern  against  a  pillar  and  filed 
out,  carrying  away  the  other.  Zeno  listened  to  their 
departing  footsteps  for  a  moment,  when  the  last  man 
had  gone  out,  and  then  he  went  quickly  to  the  entrance 
and  listened  again.  In  two  or  three  minutes  he  heard 
what  he  expected;  a  heavy  door  creaked  and  was  shut 
with  a  loud  noise  that  boomed  down  the  inclined  passage. 
Then  came  another  sound,  which  was  not  that  of  bolt 
or  bar,  and  was  worse  to  hear.  The  men  were  rolling 
big  loose  stones  against  the  door  to  keep  it  shut  —  two, 
three,  more,  a  dozen  at  least,  a  weight  no  one  man  could 
push  outward.  Then  there  was  no  more  noise,  and  Zeno 
was  alone. 

His  situation  was  serious,  and  his  face  was  very 


XIII 


AKETHUSA  251 


thoughtful  as  he  went  back  to  the  lantern  and  picked 
up  one  of  the  two  cloaks  Tocktamish  had  left  him.  He 
put  it  on  and  drew  it  closely  round  him,  for  he  was  be 
ginning  to  feel  cold  in  spite  of  the  heavy  guardsman's 
tunic  he  wore  over  his  own  clothes. 

He  thought  of  Arethusa,  as  he  called  Zoe;  she  had 
been  in  his  mind  constantly,  and  most  of  all  in  each  of 
the  moments  of  danger  through  which  he  had  passed 
since  he  had  left  her.  He  thought  of  her  lying  awake 
on  her  divan  in  the  soft  light  of  the  small  lamps,  waiting 
to  hear  his  footsteps  on  the  landing  below  her  window, 
then  falling  gently  asleep  out  of  sheer  weariness,  to  dream 
of  him;  starting  in  her  rest,  perhaps,  as  she  dreamt 
that  he  was  in  peril,  but  smiling  again,  without  opening 
her  eyes,  when  the  vision  changed,  and  he  held  her  in  his 
arms  once  more.  He  little  guessed  what  that  yielding 
something  beneath  the  canvas  had  been,  on  which  he 
had  pressed  his  foot  so  heavily  when  he  had  stepped 
ashore.  She  was  happily  ignorant,  he  fancied,  of  the 
succession  of  hairbreadth  escapes  through  which  he  had 
passed  unhurt  so  far.  What  weighed  most  on  his  mind, 
after  all,  was  the  thought  that  when  he  met  her  he  should 
have  to  tell  her  that  he  had  failed. 

But  he  was  not  thinking  of  her  only  as  he  sat  there,  for 
his  own  situation  stared  him  in  the  face,  and  he  could 
not  think  of  Arethusa  without  wondering  whether  he 
was  ever  to  see  her  again.  He  had  heard  those  big  stones 
rolled  to  the  door,  and  something  told  him  that  neither 
Tocktamish  nor  his  men  would  bring  the  promised  bread 
and  water  in  the  morning.  They  did  not  believe  that 


252  ARETHUSA 


CHAP. 


he  was  unable  to  pay  the  ransom  they  demanded,  and 
they  meant  to  starve  him  into  yielding.  But  he  had 
spoken  the  truth ;  he  had  not  such  a  sum  of  money  at  his 
command.  The  question  was,  what  the  end  would  be. 
For  the  present  they  had  not  left  him  so  much  as  a  jug 
of  water,  and  he  suddenly  realised  that  he  was  thirsty 
after  his  many  exertions.  He  could  not  help  laughing 
to  himself  at  the  idea  that  he  might  die  of  thirst  in  a 
cistern. 

But  it  was  not  in  him  to  waste  time  in  idly  reflecting 
on  the  detestable  irony  of  his  fate,  when  there  was  any 
possibility  that  his  own  action  might  help  him  He  rose 
again  and  took  up  the  lantern  to  make  a  systematic 
examination  of  his  prison.  After  all,  Tocktamish  and 
his  soldiers  must  have  acted  on  the  spur  of  the  moment, 
and  though  they  evidently  knew  the  entrance  to  the 
cistern,  and  had  probably  been  aware  that  it  had  a  door 
which  could  be  shut,  it  was  not  impossible  that  there 
might  be  another  way  out  which  they  had  overlooked  in 
their  haste. 

But  Zeno  could  find  none,  and  the  place  was  not  so 
large  as  he  had  at  first  supposed.  He  counted  eight 
columns  in  each  direction,  which  gave  sixty-four  for 
the  whole  number,  and  he  guessed  the  cistern  to  be 
about  one  hundred  feet  square.  The  walls  were  covered 
with  smooth  cement,  to  which  the  dust  hardly  adhered, 
and  which  extended  upwards  to  the  spring  of  the  vault, 
at  the  same  level  as  the  capitals  of  the  columns.  There 
was  no  opening  to  be  found  except  the  one  entrance. 
Zeno  followed  the  steep  inclined  passage  upwards  till 


xra  AKETHUSA  253 

he  reached  the  closed  door  which,  as  he  well  understood, 
must  be  at  a  considerable  distance  from  the  cistern. 
It  was  made  of  oak,  and  though  it  might  have  been  in 
its  place  a  couple  of  hundred  years  it  was  still  perfectly 
sound.  The  lock  had  been  wrenched  off  long  ago, 
probably  to  be  used  for  some  neighbouring  house,  but 
Zeno  had  heard  the  stones  rolled  up  outside  the  door, 
and  even  before  he  tried  it,  he  knew  that  he  could  not 
make  it  move. 

He  wondered  whether  Tocktamish  had  set  a  watch, 
and  he  called  out  and  listened  for  an  answer,  but  none 
came ;  he  shouted,  with  the  same  result.  Then  he  took 
up  his  lantern  and  went  down  again,  for  it  was  clear 
that  the  soldiers  thought  him  so  safely  confined  that 
it  would  not  be  necessary  to  guard  the  entrance.  Since 
that  was  their  opinion,  there  was  nothing  to  be  done  but 
to  agree  with  them.  Zeno  lay  down  in  the  dust,  rolled 
himself  in  the  spare  cloak,  placing  a  doubled  fold  of  it 
between  his  head  and  the  base  of  a  column,  and  he  was 
soon  fast  asleep. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

THERE  was  consternation  in  little  Omobono's  face 
the  next  morning  when  he  learnt  that  his  master  had 
gone  out  during  the  night,  and  had  not  come  home. 
The  secretary  would  not  believe  it  at  first,  and  he  went 
himself  to  Zeno's  bedroom  and  saw  that  the  couch  had 
not  been  slept  on;  he  could  tell  that  easily,  though  it 
was  not  a  bed  but  a  narrow  divan  covered  with  a  carpet; 
for  the  two  leathern  pillows  were  not  disturbed,  and  the 
old  dark  red  cloak  which  Zeno  always  used  as  a  covering 
was  neatly  folded  in  its  place.  It  had  been  with  him 
through  the  long  campaign  in  Greece,  and  he  had  the 
almost  affectionate  associations  with  it  which  men  of 
action  often  connect  with  objects  that  have  served  them 
well  in  dangerous  times. 

Zeno  had  not  slept  at  home,  and  he  had  changed  his 
clothes  before  going  out.  Questioned  by  Omobono, 
Vito  could  not  say  with  any  certainty  what  the  master 
had  put  on;  in  fact,  he  could  not  tell  at  all.  All  the 
cloth  hose  and  doublets  and  tunics  were  in  their  places 
in  the  cedar  wardrobes  and  chests  of  drawers,  except 
those  he  had  taken  off,  which  lay  on  a  chair.  It  looked, 
said  the  servant,  as  if  the  master  had  gone  out  without 
any  clothes  at  all ! 

Omobono  felt  that  if  he  had  been  a  bigger  man  he  would 

254 


CHAP.    XIV 


AKETHUSA  255 


have  boxed  the  fellow's  ears  for  the  impertinent  sug 
gestion.  But  it  was  not  quite  safe,  for  the  man  was  a  big 
Venetian  gondolier  and  sailor.  Besides,  as  he  went  on  to 
explain,  the  master  had  often  gone  down  to  the  marble 
steps  at  dawn  for  a  plunge  and  a  swim,  with  nothing 
but  a  sheet  round  him,  coming  back  to  dress  in  his  room. 
Perhaps  he  had  done  so  now,  and  perhaps 

The  man  stopped  short.  Perhaps  Zeno  was  drowned. 
He  looked  at  Omobono,  but  the  secretary  shook  his 
head,  and  pointed  to  the  undisturbed  couch.  Zeno 
would  certainly  not  have  gone  out  bathing  before  going 
to  bed.  Neither  of  them  thought  of  looking  into  the 
small  military  trunk  which  stood  in  a  dark  corner,  and 
from  which  Zeno  had  taken  the  leathern  jerkin  and  stout 
hose  which  he  had  put  on  for  the  expedition. 

Omobono  had,  of  course,  already  questioned  the  slave- 
girls.  They  told  what  they  knew,  that  the  master  had 
supped  upstairs,  and  had  dismissed  them.  When  they 
came  back  to  the  room  he  was  gone,  they  said ;  and  this 
was  true,  since  they  had  slept  all  night.  The  Kokona 
was  now  asleep,  they  added ;  but  they  did  not  say  that 
she  was  sleeping  dressed  as  she  had  been  on  the  previous 
evening,  and  looked  very  tired,  for  that  was  none  of  the 
secretary's  business. 

Omobono  went  up  and  down  the  stairs  almost  as  often 
that  morning  as  on  the  day  of  Zoe's  first  coming,  and  again 
and  again  he  instructed  Yulia  to  call  him  when  her  mis 
tress  awoke.  The  answer  was  always  the  same :  the 
Kokona  was  still  asleep,  and  the  secretary  should  be 
called  as  soon  as  she  rose.  At  last  he  began  to  think  that 


256  AKETHUSA  CHAP. 

she,  too,  had  left  the  house,  and  that  the  girls  were  in  the 
secret,  and  he  threatened  to  go  in  and  see  for  himself. 
To  his  surprise  Yulia  stood  aside  to  let  him  pass,  laying 
one  finger  on  her  lips  as  a  warning  to  make  no  noise; 
for  the  little  slave  saw  well  enough  that  he  suspected 
her  of  lying,  and  she  was  afraid  of  him  in  Zeno's  absence. 
Seeing  that  she  did  not  oppose  him,  he  was  convinced, 
and  did  not  go  in. 

He  would  not  send  out  messengers  to  ask  for  his 
master  at  the  houses  of  the  Venetian  merchants,  or  at 
their  places  of  business,  for  he  had  a  true  Italian's  in 
stinct  to  conceal  from  the  outer  world  everything  that 
happens  in  the  house.  Yet  he  found  himself  in  a  di 
lemma;  for  Zeno  had  invited  Sebastian  Polo,  his  wife 
and  his  daughter,  and  other  friends  to  dinner,  and  they 
would  come,  and  be  amazed  to  find  that  he  was  not  there 
to  receive  them.  Yet  if  word  were  sent  to  them  not  to 
come,  Zeno  might  return  in  time  and  be  justly  angry; 
and  then  he  would  call  the  poor  secretary  something 
worse  than  a  cackling  hen.  It  was  a  terrible  difficulty, 
and  all  the  servants  and  slaves  downstairs  were  chattering 
about  it  like  magpies,  except  when  the  secretary  was  just 
passing.  The  cook  sent  to  ask  whether  he  was  to  prepare 
the  dinner. 

'Certainly,'  answered  Omobono.  'The  master  is  no 
doubt  gone  out  on  pressing  business,  and  will  be  back 
in  plenty  of  time  to  receive  his  friends.7 

He  tried  to  speak  calmly,  poor  man,  but  he  was  in  a 
terrible  stew.  Anxiety  had  brought  out  two  round  red 
spots  on  his  grey  cheeks;  for  once  his  trim  beard  was 


XIV 


ARETHUSA  257 


almost  ruffled,  and  his  small  round  eyes  were  haggard 
and  bloodshot. 

As  the  time  for  the  arrival  of  the  guests  drew  near, 
he  felt  his  brain  reeling,  and  the  rooms  whirled  round 
him,  till  he  felt  that  the  universe  was  going  raving  mad, 
and  that  he  was  in  the  very  centre  of  it.  Still  Zoe  slept, 
and  still  the  master  did  not  come. 

At  last  there  was  but  half  an  hour  left.  Omobono 
strained  every  nerve  he  possessed,  and  determined  to 
meet  the  tremendous  difficulty  in  a  way  that  should  elicit 
Zeno's  admiration.  He  would  receive  the  ladies  and 
gentlemen  as  major-duomo,  he  would  make  an  excuse 
for  his  master,  he  would  instal  them  in  their  places  at 
table,  and  would  direct  the  service.  Of  the  cook  and 
the  cellar  the  little  man  felt  quite  sure,  and  that  was  a 
great  consolation  in  his  extremity.  If  he  gave  Zeno's 
friends  of  the  best,  and  made  a  polite  apology,  and  saw 
that  nothing  went  wrong,  it  would  be  impossible  to  ask 
more  of  him  or  to  suggest  that  he  had  failed  in  his  duty. 
When  the  guests  were  gone  he  would  go  to  bed  and  have 
an  attack  of  fever ;  of  that  he  felt  quite  sure,  but  then  the 
terrible  ordeal  would  be  over,  and  it  would  be  a  relief 
to  lie  on  his  back  and  feel  very  ill. 

He  retired  and  dressed  himself  in  his  best  clothes. 
His  cloth  hose  were  of  a  dark  wine  colour,  but  were  now 
a  little  loose  for  his  legs.  He  looked  at  them  affection 
ately  as  he  examined  them  in  the  light.  They  recalled 
many  cheerful  hours  and  some  proud  moments;  they 
remembered  also  the  days  when  his  little  legs  had  not 
been  so  thin.  Yet  by  pulling  them  up  almost  to  the 


258  AKETHUSA 


CHAP. 


tearing  point  they  lost  in  width  what  they  gained  in 
length,  and  made  a  very  good  appearance  after  all,  for 
he  secured  them  by  an  ingenious  contrivance  of  belt  and 
string.  It  was  true  that  when  he  walked  he  felt  as  if 
he  were  being  lifted  from  the  floor  by  the  back  of  his 
waistband,  but  that  only  made  him  feel  a  little  taller 
than  he  was,  and  forced  him  to  hold  himself  very 
straight,  which  was  a  distinct  advantage. 

Now  in  all  this  trouble  it  never  occurred  to  him  that 
his  master  was  in  any  great  danger  or  trouble,  much 
less  that  he  might  have  been  killed  in  some  mad  adven 
ture.  Carlo  Zeno  had  lived  through  such  desperate 
perils  again  and  again,  that  Omobono  had  formed  the 
habit  of  believing  him  to  be  indestructible,  if  not  invul 
nerable,  and  sure  to  fall  on  his  feet  whatever  happened. 
The  secretary  only  wished  he  would  not  choose  to  dis 
appear  on  the  very  day  when  he  had  asked  five  friends 
to  dine  with  him. 

Omobono  stood  in  his  fine  clean  shirt  and  his  wine- 
coloured  hose,  combing  and  smoothing  his  beard  care 
fully  with  the  help  of  a  little  mirror  no  bigger  than  the 
bottom  of  a  tumbler.  The  glass  was  indeed  so  small 
that  he  could  only  get  an  impression  of  his  whole  face 
by  moving  the  thing  about,  from  his  chin  to  his  nose, 
from  one  cheek  to  the  other,  and  from  his  forehead  to  his 
thin  throat,  round  which  he  admired  the  neatly  fitting 
line  of  the  narrow  linen  collar.  But  this  last  effort 
required  a  good  deal  of  squinting,  for  the  point  of  his 
beard  was  in  the  way. 

While  he  was  thus  engaged  some  one  tapped  at  his 


xiv  AEETHUSA  259 

door,  and  a  small  voice  informed  him  that  Kokona 
Arethusa  was  now  awake,  and  wished  to  see  him  in 
stantly.  Though  the  door  was  not  opened  by  the 
speaker,  Omobono  hastily  laid  down  his  glass  and  his 
comb,  and  struggled  into  his  tunic  as  if  his  life  depended 
on  his  getting  it  on  before  he  answered ;  for  he  was  a  very 
modest  man,  and  the  voice  was  a  girl's ;  moreover,  he  was 
aware  that  the  device  of  belt  and  strings  by  which  his  hose 
were  drawn  up  so  very  tightly  must  present  a  ridiculous 
appearance  until  covered  by  his  over-garment;  then, 
however,  the  effect  would  be  excellent.  So  he  got  on  his 
tunic  as  fast  as  he  could,  and  then  answered  with  the 
calmness  of  perfectly  restored  dignity  through  the  closed 
door. 

1  Tell  the  Kokona  that  I  am  at  her  service/  he  said; 
and  that  I  shall  be  with  her  immediately.' 

'Yes,  sir/  said  the  small  voice,  and  he  heard  the  girl's 
retreating  footsteps  immediately  after  she  had  spoken. 

A  few  moments  later  he  was  going  up  the  stairs  as 
fast  as  the  tremendous  tension  of  his  hose  would  allow, 
and  as  he  went  he  reflected  with  satisfaction  that  as 
major-duomo  he  could  not  by  any  possibility  be  called 
upon  to  sit  down  in  the  presence  of  his  master's  guests. 

One  of  the  slave-girls  ushered  him  into  Zoe's  presence. 
The  latter  was  seated  on  the  edge  of  the  divan,  looking 
anxiously  towards  the  door  when  he  entered,  and  for  the 
first  time  since  she  had  been  in  the  house  he  saw  her  face 
uncovered.  It  was  very  pale,  and  there  were  deep 
shadows  under  her  eyes.  Her  beautiful  brown  hair  was  in 
wild  disorder,  too,  and  fell  in  a  loosened  tress  upon  one 


260  ARETHUSA  CHAP. 

shoulder.  The  hand  that  rested  on  the  edge  of  the  divan 
strained  upon  a  fold  of  the  delicate  silk  carpet  that  cov 
ered  the  couch.  She  spoke  as  soon  as  Omobono  ap 
peared. 

'Have  you  heard  from  him?'  she  asked  anxiously. 
'Is  he  coming?' 

It  did  not  seem  strange  to  the  secretary  that  she 
should  already  know  of  Zeno's  absence,  since  no  one  in 
the  house  could  think  or  talk  of  anything  else.  On  his 
part  he  was  resolved  to  maintain  the  calm  dignity  be 
coming  to  the  major-duomo  of  a  noble  house. 

'The  master  will  doubtless  come  home  when  he  has 
finished  the  urgent  business  that  called  him  away,'  he 
answered.  'In  his  absence,  it  will  be  my  duty  to  make 
excuses  to  his  guests ' 

'Are  they  coming?  Have  you  not  sent  them  word 
to  stay  away?' 

Omobono  smiled  in  a  sort  of  superiorly  humble  way. 

'And  what  if  the  master  should  return  just  at  the  hour 
of  dinner  ?'  he  asked.  'What  would  he  say  if  I  had  ven 
tured  to  take  upon  myself  such  a  responsibility?  The 
Kokona  does  not  know  the  master!  Happily  I  have 
been  in  his  service  too  long  not  to  understand  my 
duty.  If  it  pleases  him  to  come  home,  he  will  find  that 
his  friends  have  been  entertained  as  he  desired.  If  he 
does  not  come,  he  will  be  glad  to  learn  afterwards  that 
the  proper  excuses  were  offered  to  them  for  his  unavoid 
able  absence,  and  that  they  were  treated  with  the  honour 
due  to  their  station.' 

Zoe  stared  at  the  secretary,  really  amazed  by  his 


xrv  ARETHUSA  261 

calmness,  and  Almost  reassured  by  his  evident  belief 
in  Zeno's  safety.  It  was  true  that  he  knew  nothing  of 
the  facts,  and  had  not  seen  his  master  hanging  by  the  end 
of  a  rope,  fifty  feet  above  the  ground,  within  twelve 
hours.  It  would  have  been  hard  to  imagine  Omobono's 
state  of  mind  if  he  had  spent  the  night  as  Zoe  had.  But 
nevertheless  his  assurance  rested  her,  and  restored  a  little 
of  her  confidence  in  Zeno's  good  fortune.  Of  his  courage 
and  his  strength  she  needed  not  to  be  reminded;  but 
she  knew  well  enough  that  unless  chance  were  in  his 
favour,  he  could  never  leave  Blachernse  except  to  die. 

'  Do  you  really  think  he  is  safe  ?'  Zoe  asked,  glad  to  hear 
the  reassuring  words,  even  in  her  own  voice. 

'Of  course,  Kokona ' 

But  at  this  moment  the  sound  of  oars  in  the  water, 
and  of  several  voices  talking  together,  came  up  through 
the  open  window  from  the  landing  below. 

All  Omobono's  excitement  returned  at  the  thought  that 
he  might  not  get  down  the  stairs  in  time  to  receive  the 
guests  at  the  marble  steps  just  as  the  boats  came  along 
side.  Without  another  word  he  turned  and  fled  pre 
cipitately. 

Zoe  had  heard  the  voices  too,  and  had  understood; 
and,  in  spite  of  her  anxiety,  a  gentle  smile  at  the  secre 
tary's  nervousness  flitted  across  her  tired  face.  The 
two  slave-girls  had  run  to  the  window  to  see  who  was 
coming,  and  as  they  had  always  been  told  not  to  show 
themselves  at  windows,  they  crouched  down  in  the  bal 
cony  and  looked  through  the  open-work  of  marble  which 
formed  the  parapet. 


262  ARETHUSA 


CHAP. 


Zoe  rose  to  cross  the  room.  In  the  first  rush  of  mem 
ory  that  came  with  waking,  she  had  almost  forgotten 
that  she  had  been  hurt,  and  now  she  bit  her  lip  as  the  pain 
shot  down  her  right  side.  But  she  smiled  almost  in 
stantly.  She  would  rather  have  been  hurt  unawares 
by  the  man  she  loved,  than  that  he  should  not  have 
touched  her  at  the  very  moment  of  going  into  danger. 
The  memory  of  his  crushing  weight  upon  her  for  that 
instant  was  something  she  would  not  part  with.  Women 
know  what  that  is.  She  thought  how  tenderly  he  would 
have  stooped  to  kiss  her,  if  he  had  known  that  she  was 
lying  there  under  the  canvas.  Instead,  he  had  stepped 
upon  her  body;  and  it  was  almost  better  than  a  kiss, 
for  that  would  have  left  nothing  of  itself ;  but  now  each 
movement  that  hurt  her  brought  him  close  to  her  again. 

She  had  received  no  real  injury,  but  she  limped  as  she 
walked  to  the  window.  Then  she  stood  still  just  within 
it,  where  she  could  not  see  down  to  the  steps  below,  but 
could  talk  with  the  slave-girls  in  a  whisper.  Doubtless, 
since  Zeno  had  not  wished  her  to  be  seen,  she  would  not 
have  shown  herself;  but  she  was  quite  conscious  that  she 
looked  ill  and  tired,  and  by  no  means  fit  to  face  a  rival 
who  had  been  described  to  her  as  fresher  than  spring 
roses ;  so  that  the  sacrifice  was,  after  all,  not  so  great  as  it 
might  have  been. 

'Tell  me  what  you  see/  she  said  to  the  maids. 

Lucilla  turned  up  her  sallow  little  face. 

'  There  are  three/  she  answered.  '  There  is  a  Venetian 
lord,  and  his  lady,  and  a  young  lady.  At  least,  I  sup 
pose  she  is  young/ 


'  Tell  me  what  you  see,'  she  said  to  the  maids. 


xiv  ARETHUSA  263 

'I  should  think  you  could  see  that/  Zoe  said. 

'  Her  face  is  veiled/  Lucilla  replied,  after  peering  down  ; 
'but  I  can  see  her  hair.  It  is  red,  and  she  has  a  great 
deal  of  it.' 

'Red  like  Rustan's  wife's  hair?'  asked  Zoe. 

'Oh  no!  It  is  red  like  a  lady's;  for  it  is  well  dyed 
with  the  good  khenna  that  comes  from  Alexandria. 
Now  they  are  getting  out  —  the  old  lady  first  —  she  is 
fat  —  the  secretary  and  her  husband  help  her  on  each 
side.  She  is  all  wrapped  in  a  long  green  silk  mantle 
embroidered  with  red  roses.  She  is  like  a  dish  of  spinach 
in  flames.  How  fat  she  is ! ' 

Lucilla  shook  a  little,  as  if  she  were  laughing  internally. 

'What  does  her  daughter  wear?'  asked  Zoe. 

'A  dark  purple  cloak,  with  a  broad  silver  trimming.' 

'How  hideous!'  exclaimed  Zoe,  for  no  particular 
reason. 

The  secretary  bows  to  the  ground/  Lucilla  said.  'He 
is  saying  something.' 

She  stopped  speaking,  and  all  three  listened.  Zoe 
could  hear  Omobono's  voice  quite  distinctly. 

'By  a  most  unfortunate  circumstance/  he  was  saying, 
'  Messer  Carlo  Zeno  was  obliged  to  go  out  on  very  urgent 
business,  and  has  not  yet  returned.  I  am  his  secretary 
and  major-duomo,  as  your  lordship  may  deign  to  remem 
ber.  In  my  master's  absence  I  have  the  honour  to  wel 
come  his  guests,  and  to  wait  upon  them.' 

Sebastian  Polo  said  something  in  answer  to  this  fine 
speech;  but  in  a  low  tone,  and  Zoe  could  not  hear  the 
words.  Then  a  peculiarly  disagreeable  woman's  voice 


264  AEETHUSA  CHAP. 

asked  a  question.  Zoe  thought  it  sounded  like  something 
between  the  croaking  of  many  frogs  and  the  clucking 
of  an  old  hen.  'We  hope  you  will  give  us  our  dinner, 
whatever  happens/  said  the  lady,  who  seemed  to  be  of  a 
practical  turn  of  mind. 

'Is  that  the  girl's  voice?'  asked  Zoe  of  Lucilla,  in  a 
whisper. 

The  maid  shook  her  head. 

'The  mother/  she  answered.  'Now  they  are  going  in. 
I  cannot  hear  what  Omobono  says,  for  he  is  leading  the 
way.  They  are  all  gone.' 

Zoe  did  not  care  who  else  came,  and  now  that  the 
moment  was  over  she  was  much  less  disturbed  by  the  fact 
that  Giustina  was  under  the  same  roof  with  her  than  she 
had  expected  to  be.  She  did  not  believe  that  Zeno  had 
ever  kissed  Giustina,  and  he  had  certainly  never  stepped 
on  her. 

She  let  her  maids  do  what  they  would  with  her  now; 
hardly  noticing  the  skill  they  showed  in  helping  her  to 
move,  and  in  smoothing  away  the  pain  she  felt,  as  only 
the  people  of  the  East  know  how  to  do  it.  As  she  did 
not  speak  to  them  they  dared  not  ask  her  questions  about 
the  master's  absence.  They  had  left  him  with  her  when 
they  had  been  sent  away;  they  had  slept  till  morning; 
when  they  awoke  they  had  found  Zoe  lying  on  the  divan 
asleep  in  her  clothes,  and  the  master  had  gone  out  of  the 
house  unseen  and  had  not  returned.  That  was  as  far 
as  their  knowledge  went;  but  they  were  sure  that  she 
knew  everything,  and  they  hoped  that  if  they  pleased  her 
even  more  than  usual  she  would  let  fall  some  words  of 


xiv  ARETHUSA  265 

explanation,  as  mistresses  sometimes  do  when  their  ser 
vants  are  particularly  satisfactory.  Most  young  women, 
when  they  are  in  a  good  humour,  let  their  maids  know 
what  they  have  been  doing;  and  as  soon  as  they  are 
cross  the  maids  revenge  themselves  by  telling  the  other 
servants  everything.  In  this  way  the  balance  of  power 
is  maintained  between  the  employer  and  the  employed, 
like  the  hydrostatic  equilibrium  in  the  human  body, 
which  cannot  be  destroyed  without  bringing  on  a 
syncope. 

But  though  Zoe  felt  very  much  less  pain  after  Yulia 
and  Lucilla  had  bathed  her  and  rubbed  her,  and  had 
gently  pulled  at  all  her  joints  till  she  felt  supple  and  light 
again,  she  said  nothing  about  Zeno;  and  though  they 
dressed  her  so  skilfully  that  she  could  not  help  smiling 
with  pleasure  when  they  showed  her  to  herself  in  the 
large  mirror  they  held  up  between  them,  yet  she  only 
thanked  them  kindly,  and  gave  them  each  two  spoon 
fuls  of  roseleaf  preserve,  which  represented  to  them  an 
almost  heavenly  delight,  as  she  well  knew,  and  which  she 
herself  did  not  at  all  despise.  That  was  all,  however; 
and  they  were  a  little  disappointed,  because  she  did  not 
condescend  to  talk  to  them  about  the  master's  dis 
appearance,  which  was  the  greatest  event  that  had  hap 
pened  since  they  had  all  three  lived  under  Zeno's  roof. 

Meanwhile  Omobono  was  playing  his  part  of  major- 
duomo  downstairs,  and  had  installed  the  guests  at  the 
table  set  for  them  in  the  large  hall  looking  over  the 
Golden  Horn.  After  Polo  and  his  wife,  another  Vene 
tian  merchant  had  arrived,  the  rich  old  banker  Marin 


266  ARETHUSA  CHAP. 

Corner,  long  established  in  Constantinople,  and  a  friend 
of  Sebastian  Polo.  The  fifth  person  invited  did  not 
appear,  so  that  two  seats  were  vacant,  the  sixth  being 
Zeno's  own;  and  behind  his  high  carved  chair  Omo- 
bono  installed  himself,  to  direct  the  servants,  quite  an 
imposing  figure  in  his  dark  purple  tunic  and  the  hand 
some  silver  chain,  which  he  had  put  on  to-day  to  in 
dicate  his  high  office  in  the  establishment.  Poor 
Omobono!  He  little  dreamt  of  what  was  in  store  for 
him  that  day. 

The  three  older  guests  were  moderately  sorry  that 
Zeno  was  not  present.  In  their  several  ways  they  were 
all  a  little  afraid  of  their  eccentric  countryman,  about 
whom  the  most  wild  tales  were  told.  Though  in  truth 
he  was  extremely  punctual  in  meeting  his  financial 
engagements,  both  Sebastian  Polo  and  Marin  Corner 
had  always  felt  a  little  nervous  about  doing  business 
with  a  young  man  who  was  known  to  have  kept  an 
army  at  bay  for  a  whole  winter,  who  was  reported  to  have 
slain  at  least  a  hundred  Turks  with  his  own  hand,  and 
whose  brown  eyes  gleamed  like  a  tiger's  at  the  mere 
mention  of  a  fight.  It  would  be  so  extremely  awkward 
if,  instead  of  meeting  a  bill  that  fell  due,  he  should  ap 
pear  at  Corner's  bank  armed  to  the  teeth  and  demand 
the  contents  of  the  strong  box.  On  the  whole  the  two 
elderly  merchants  ate  with  a  better  appetite  in  his 
absence. 

But  Giustina  was  inconsolable,  and  the  good  things 
did  not  appeal  to  her,  neither  the  fresh  sturgeon's 
roe  from  the  Black  Sea,  nor  the  noble  palamit,  nor  the 


xiv  AEETHUSA  267 

delicate  quails,  nor  even  the  roasted  peacock,  whose 
magnificent  tail  rose  out  of  a  vast  silver  dish  like  a  rain 
bow  with  spots  on  it. 

She  was  a  big,  sleepy  creature  with  quantities  of 
handsomely  dyed  hair,  as  Lucilla  had  told  Zoe.  She 
had  large  and  regular  features,  a  perfectly  colourless 
white  skin,  and  a  discontented  mouth.  She  often  turned 
her  eyes  to  see  what  was  going  on,  without  turning  her 
head  at  all,  as  if  she  were  too  lazy  to  make  even  that 
small  effort.  Her  hands  were  well  shaped,  but  heavy 
in  the  fingers,  and  they  looked  like  new  marble,  too 
white  to  be  interesting,  too  cold  to  touch. 

She  was  terribly  disappointed  and  deeply  offended 
by  what  seemed  to  her  a  deliberate  insult;  for  she  did 
not  believe  a  word  of  Omobono's  polite  apology.  The 
truth  was  that  Zeno  had  only  invited  the  party  because 
her  mother  had  invited  herself  in  the  hope  of  bringing 
him  to  the  point  of  offering  to  marry  Giustina.  As  a 
matter  of  fact  nothing  had  ever  been  farther  from  his 
thoughts.  Sebastian  Polo,  urged  by  his  wife,  had 
entered  into  the  closest  relations  of  business  with  Zeno, 
and  had  again  and  again  given  him  a  share  in  transac 
tions  that  had  been  extraordinarily  profitable.  He  had 
rendered  it  necessary  for  Zeno  to  see  him  often,  and  had 
made  it  easy  by  his  constant  hospitality ;  in  these  things 
lay  the  whole  secret  of  Zeno's  visits  to  his  house.  But 
seeing  that  matters  did  not  take  a  matrimonial  direction 
as  quickly  as  she  had  expected,  Polo's  wife  had  adopted 
a  course  which  she  intended  to  make  decisive;  she  had 
asked  herself  and  her  daughter  to  dine  with  Zeno. 


268  ARETHUSA  CHAP. 

From  this  to  hinting  that  he  had  compromised  Giustina, 
and  thence  to  extracting  an  offer  of  marriage,  would  be 
easy  steps,  familiar  to  every  enterprising  mother,  since 
the  beginning  of  the  matrimonial  ages.  And  that  was  a 
long  time  ago  —  even  before  Solomon's  day,  when  the 
horseleech's  two  daughters  cried,  '  Give,  give  ! '  Zeno's 
value  as  a  possible  husband  lay  less  in  his  fortune  than 
in  his  very  magnificent  connections  at  home,  and  in  the 
fact  that  the  Emperor  Charles  had  been  his  godfather  and 
afterwards  his  friend  and  patron. 

Giustina  understood  her  thoughtful  parent's  policy; 
she  was  therefore  unhappy,  and  would  eat  no  peacock, 
a  circumstance  which  greatly  distressed  Omobono. 
Happily  for  him,  the  young  woman's  abstention  was 
fully  compensated  by  the  readiness  of  the  elder  guests 
to  partake  of  what  she  obstinately  refused,  even  to 
something  like  repletion. 

While  they  ate,  they  talked ;  that  is  to  say,  Sebastian 
Polo  and  Marin  Corner  compared  opinions  on  business 
matters  such  as  the  value  of  Persian  silks,  Greek  wines, 
and  white  slaves,  without  giving  away  to  each  other  the 
least  thread  of  information  that  could  be  turned  into 
money.  And  Polo's  wife,  who  had  an  eye  to  the  main 
chance,  croaked  a  few  words  now  and  then,  encouraging 
Corner  to  talk  more  freely  of  his  affairs;  perhaps, 
thought  she,  he  might  betray  the  secret  of  his  wonderful 
success  in  obtaining  from  the  Caucasus  certain  priceless 
furs  which  no  merchant  but  he  had  ever  been  able  to 
get.  But  though  the  fat  dame  lurecl  him  on  to  talk  and 
made  signs  to  have  his  glass  filled  again  and  again  with 


xiv  ARETHUSA  269 

Chian  wine,  and  though  the  colours  of  a  most  beautiful 
sunset  began  to  creep  up  his  thin  nose  and  his  high 
cheek  bones,  as  the  rich  evening  light  climbs  in  the 
western  sky,  Marin  Corner's  speech  was  as  quiet  and 
clear  as  ever,  and  what  he  said  was,  if  anything,  a  trifle 
more  cautious  than  before. 

And  meanwhile  Giustina  stared  across  her  empty 
plate  at  the  boats  on  the  Golden  Horn,  and  nursed  her 
wrath  against  the  man  she  wished  to  marry. 

'My  child/  croaked  her  mother,  'we  fully  understand 
your  disappointment.  But  you  should  make  an  effort 
to  be  cheerful,  if  only  for  the  sake  of  Messer  Marin  Corner, 
your  father's  valued  friend.' 

'I  beg  you  to  excuse  my  dulness,  Madam/  answered 
the  daughter  dutifully,  and  with  all  the  ceremony  that 
children  were  taught  to  use  in  addressing  their  parents. 
'I  shall  endeavour  to  obey  you.' 

'Come,  come,  Donna  Giustina!'  cried  Corner.  'We 
will  drink  your  health  and  happiness  in  this  good ' 

The  sentence  remained  unfinished,  and  his  lips  did 
not  close;  as  he  set  down  the  untasted  wine,  his  eyes 
fixed  themselves  on  a  point  between  Omobono  and  Polo, 
and  the  sunset  effects  faded  from  his  nose,  leaving  a  grey 
twilight  behind. 

The  fat  dame  thought  it  was  an  apoplexy,  and  half 
rose  from  her  seat;  but  Giustina's  eyes  followed  the 
direction  of  his  look  and  she  uttered  a  cry  of  real  fear. 
Sebastian  Polo,  who  sat  with  his  back  to  the  sight  that 
terrified  his  daughter,  gazed  at  the  other  three  in  astonish 
ment.  But  Omobono  turned  half  round  and  gasped,  and 


270  ARETHUSA 


CHAP.  XIV 


seized  the  back  of  Zeno's  empty  chair,  swinging  it  round 
on  one  of  its  legs  till  it  was  between  him  and  the  vision. 

Tocktamish  stood  there,  grinning  at  the  assembled 
company  in  a  way  to  terrify  the  stoutest  heart  amongst 
them.  He  was  magnificently  arrayed  in  his  full  dress 
uniform  of  flaming  yellow  and  gold,  and  his  huge  round 
fur  papakh  was  set  well  back  on  his  shaggy  head.  His 
right  hand  toyed  amidst  a  perfect  arsenal  of  weapons  in 
his  belt,  and  his  blood-shot  eyes  rolled  frightfully  as  he 
looked  from  one  guest  to  the  other,  showing  his  shark's 
teeth  as  he  grinned  and  grinned  again. 

It  was  certainly  Tocktamish,  the  Tartar;  and  Tock 
tamish  was  not  perfectly  sober.  He  was  the  more  pleased 
by  the  impression  his  appearance  had  produced.  He 
at  once  came  forward  to  the  empty  place  of  the  absent 
guest,  which  was  next  to  Giustina's. 

'I  see  that  you  have  kept  a  place  for  me/  he  said  in 
barbarous  Greek.  '  That  was  very  kind  of  you !  And 
I  am  in  time  for  the  peacock,  too ! ' 

Thereupon  he  sat  down  in  the  chair,  looked  round  the 
table,  and  grinned  again. 

The  fat  lady  collapsed  in  a  fainting  fit,  the  two  elderly 
merchants  edged  away  from  the  board  as  far  as  they 
could,  and  Giustina  uttered  another  piercing  shriek  when 
the  Tartar  leered  at  her. 

'Who  is  this  person?'  her  father  tried  to  ask  with 
dignity,  meaning  the  question  for  Omobono. 

But  Omobono  had  vanished,  and  the  servants  had 
fled  after  him. 


CHAPTER  XV 

TOCKTAMISH  poured  half  a  flagon  of  Chian  wine  into 
a  tall  Venetian  beaker  and  drank  it  off  by  way  of  whet 
ting  his  appetite. 

'The  master  of  the  house  is  unavoidably  absent/  he 
observed,  when  he  had  smacked  his  lips  noisily.  '  He  has 
sent  me  to  beg  that  you  will  excuse  him  and  make  your 
selves  at  home.' 

By  this  time  Dame  Polo  was  beginning  to  revive,  and 
the  two  men  were  somewhat  reassured  as  to  the  Tartar's 
intentions.  When  he  had  entered  he  had  looked  as  if 
he  meant  to  murder  them  all,  but  it  was  now  evident 
from  his  manner  that  he  wished  to  produce  a  pleasant 
impression.  He  drew  the  peacock  towards  him,  and  at 
once  took  all  the  best  pieces  that  were  left  on  the  dish, 
using  his  fingers  to  save  trouble.  Giustina  watched  him 
without  turning  her  head,  and  judged  that,  after  all, 
he  had  only  meant  to  show  his  admiration  for  her  beauty 
when  he  had  leered  so  horribly.  She  was  in  reality 
the  least  timid  of  all  the  party,  though  she  had  shrieked 
so  loudly,  and  she  remembered  a  fairy  story  about  a 
frightful  monster  that  had  loved  a  beautiful  princess. 
She  was  already  pondering  on  the  means  of  making  a 
similar  conquest. 

'Are  we  to  understand/  asked  Marin  Corner,  politely, 

271 


272  ARETHUSA  CHAP. 

but  in  a  shaky  tone,  'that  you  come  from  Messer  Carlo 
Zeno?' 

Tocktamish  grunted  assent,  for  his  mouth  was  full, 
and  he  nodded  emphatically. 

'  Messer  Carlo  Zeno  is  in  need  of  a  large  sum  of  money 
without  delay/  he  said,  when  he  was  able  to  speak  again. 

Sebastian  Polo  looked  at  Marin  Corner  significantly; 
and  Marin  Corner  looked  at  Sebastian  Polo.  The  fat 
lady  pricked  her  ears,  figuratively  speaking,  for  indeed 
they  were  much  too  deeply  embedded  in  their  exuberant 
surroundings  of  cheek  and  jowl  to  suggest  that  they  could 
ever  prick  at  all.  The  Tartar  crammed  his  mouth  full 
again,  and  his  great  beard  wagged  with  his  jaws  in  the 
inevitable  silence  that  followed.  In  her  heart  Giustina 
compared  him  to  a  ravenous  lion,  but  her  father  thought 
he  resembled  a  hungry  hyena. 

Finding  that  his  throat  was  not  cut  yet,  and  learning 
that  there  was  to  be  a  question  of  money,  Marin  Corner 
felt  that  the  colour  was  returning  to  his  nose  and  the 
warmth  to  his  heart. 

1  Why  does  Messer  Carlo  not  come  home  himself  and  get 
the  money  he  needs?'  he  asked. 

By  this  time  Omobono  had  recovered  from  his  fright 
enough  to  creep  into  the  room  behind  Tocktamish.  He 
was  already  making  anxious  gestures  to  the  two  Venetian 
gentlemen  to  enjoin  caution.  The  Tartar  drank  again 
before  he  answered  the  question. 

'  He  happened  to  be  so  busy  that  he  preferred  to  send 
me  to  get  the  money  for  him/  said  the  soldier.  'You 
see  we  are  old  friends.  We  fought  together  in  Greece.' 


xv  ARETHUSA  273 

Then  Omobono's  voice  was  heard,  quavering  with 
anxiety. 

'  There  is  no  money  in  the  house ! '  he  cried,  winking 
violently  at  Polo  and  Corner.  '  There  is  not  a  penny,  I 
swear !  There  were  large  payments  to  make  yesterday.7 

The  poor  little  secretary  was  so  anxious  to  be  heard 
that  he  had  come  within  arm's  length  of  the  Tartar, 
though  behind  him.  Tocktamish  turned  his  big  head, 
and  put  out  his  hand  unexpectedly,  and  Omobono  felt 
himself  caught  and  whirled  round  like  a  child  till  he  was 
close  to  the  table  and  face  to  face  with  the  tipsy  giant. 
He  was  sure  that  he  felt  his  liver  shrivelling  up  inside 
him  with  sheer  fright. 

'What  is  this  little  animal?'  the  Tartar  asked,  cocking 
one  eye  in  a  knowing  way  and  examining  him  with  a  sort 
of  boozy  gravity. 

But  Omobono  really  could  not  find  a  word.  His  captor 
shook  him  playfully. 

'What  is  your  name,  you  funny  little  beast?'  he  en 
quired,  and  he  roared  with  laughter  by  way  of  answering 
himself. 

Giustina,  strange  to  say,  was  the  only  one  to  join  in  his 
mirth,  and  she  laughed  quite  prettily,  to  the  inexpressible 
surprise  of  her  parents,  who  were  shocked  and  grieved, 
as  well  as  scared  almost  to  death. 

'  Come,  come ! '  laughed  the  Tartar,  shaking  the  little 
man  like  a  bean-bag.  'If  you  cannot  speak,  you  can  at 
least  give  up  your  keys,  and  I  will  see  for  myself  if  there 
is  any  money ! ' 

Thereupon  he  seized  the  bunch  of  keys  which  the 


274  ARETHUSA  CHAP. 

secretary  wore  at  his  belt,  and  wrenched  it  off  with  a  pull 
that  snapped  the  thong  by  which  it  hung.  Again 
Giustina  laughed,  but  a  little  more  nervously  now;  her 
mother  sat  transfixed,  open-mouthed,  with  an  almost 
idiotic  expression.  Again  the  two  merchants  glanced 
at  each  other,  and  then  both  looked  towards  the 
door. 

Between  his  fright  and  the  terrible  indignity  of  having 
his  keys  torn  from  him,  Omobono  had  never  been  nearer 
to  fainting  in  his  life. 

'  Robbery ! '  he  gasped.     '  Rank  robbery ! ' 

Tocktamish  sent  him  spinning  into  the  nearest  corner 
by  a  turn  of  the  wrist,  after  which  the  ruffian  took  an 
other  mouthful  of  meat,  and  slowly  filled  his  glass  while 
he  was  disposing  of  it.  Omobono  had  steadied  himself 
in  the  corner,  but  his  face  was  deadly  white,  and  his  lips 
were  moving  nervously  in  a  delirium  of  terror. 

'Messer  Carlo  needs  ten  thousand  ducats  before  sun 
set,'  observed  the  Tartar  before  he  drank. 

Polo  and  Corner  started  to  their  feet;  to  their  com 
mercial  souls  the  mere  mention  of  such  a  demand  was 
more  terrifying  than  all  the  crooked  weapons  that 
gleamed  in  Tocktamish 's  broad  belt. 

'Ten  thousand  ducats!'  they  repeated  together 
in  a  breath. 

'  Yes ! '  roared  the  Tartar,  in  a  voice  that  made  the 
glasses  on  the  table  shake  together  and  ring.  'Ten 
thousand  ducats!  And  if  I  do  not  find  the  money  in 
the  house,  you  two  must  find  it  in  yours!  Do  you 
understand?' 


xr  ABETHUSA  275 

They  understood,  for  his  voice  was  like  thunder, 
and  he  had  risen  too,  and  towered  above  them  with  his 
full  glass  in  one  hand  and  Omobono's  keys  in  the  other. 
Then,  being  already  tolerably  drunk,  he  solemnly  raised 
the  keys  to  his  lips,  thinking  that  he  held  the  glass  in 
that  hand,  and  rolled  his  eyes  terribly  at  the  two  mer 
chants;  and  he  set  the  glass  down  with  an  emphatic 
gesture,  as  if  it  had  been  the  bunch  of  keys,  and  it  broke 
to  pieces,  and  the  yellow  wine  splashed  out  across  the 
table  and  ran  down  and  streamed  upon  the  mosaic 
floor. 

A  terrific  Tartar  oath  announced  that  he  had  realised 
his  mistake,  and  as  he  at  once  made  up  his  mind  that  the 
Venetians  were  responsible  for  it,  his  next  action  was  to 
hurl  the  foot  of  the  broken  glass  at  Polo's  head ;  and  he 
instantly  seized  the  empty  silver  flagon  and  flung  it  at 
Corner's  face.  The  lighter  weapon  missed  its  aim  and 
broke  to  atoms  against  the  opposite  wall,  but  the  jug 
struck  Corner  full  on  the  bridge  of  his  thin  nose  with 
awful  effect,  and  he  fell  to  the  floor  and  lay  there,  a 
moaning,  bleeding  heap. 

Polo  looked  neither  at  his  wife  nor  at  his  daughter, 
but  fled  through  the  open  door  at  the  top  of  his  not  very 
great  speed.  His  wife  fainted  outright,  and  in  real 
earnest  now,  and  with  a  final  croak  rolled  gently  from 
her  chair,  without  hurting  herself  at  all.  Omobono 
flattened  his  lean  body  against  the  wall,  trembling  in 
every  joint,  and  gibbering  with  fear;  and  Tocktamish, 
seeing  that  he  had  so  satisfactorily  cleared  the  field,  pro 
ceeded  to  address  his  attentions  to  Giustina,  who  had 


276  AEETHUSA  CHAP. 

not  fainted,  but  was  really  much  too  frightened  to  rise 
from  her  seat  or  try  to  escape. 

The  Tartar  drew  his  chair  nearer  to  hers,  and  sud 
denly  smiled,  as  if  he  had  done  nothing  unusual,  and  was 
only  anxious  to  make  himself  agreeable.  He  had  been 
drinking  since  early  morning,  but  he  would  be  good  for  at 
least  another  gallon  of  wine  before  it  made  him  senseless. 
He  addressed  Giustina  in  the  poetic  language  of  his 
native  country. 

'  Come,  pet  parrot  of  my  soul ! '  he  began,  coaxingly. 
'  Fill  me  a  cup  and  let  me  hear  your  ravishing  voice ! 
Tocktamish  has  cleared  the  house  as  the  thunderstorm 
clears  the  hot  air  from  the  valley !  Drink,  my  pretty 
nightingale,  and  the  golden  wine  shall  warm  your  speech 
in  your  little  throat,  as  the  morning  sunshine  melts  the 
icicles  in  my  beard  when  I  have  been  hunting  all  night 
in  winter !  Drink,  my  fawn,  my  spring  lamb,  my  soft 
wood-pigeon,  my  white  bunny  rabbit !  Drink,  sweet 
one!' 

The  Tartar's  similes  were  in  hopeless  confusion, 
possibly  because  he  translated  them  into  Greek,  but  he 
was  convinced  that  he  was  eloquent,  and  he  was  undeni 
ably  as  strong  as  a  bear.  He  had  filled  a  fresh  glass  and 
was  evidently  anxious  to  make  Giustina  drink  out  of  it 
before  him,  for  he  held  it  to  her  lips  with  his  left  hand 
while  his  right  tried  to  take  her  round  the  waist  and  draw 
her  to  his  knee. 

But  this  was  much  more  than  she  was  prepared  to 
submit  to.  In  the  fairy  story,  Beast  was  less  enter 
prising  in  the  presence  of  Beauty,  and  collapsed  into 


xv  ARETHUSA  277 

obedience  at  the  mere  lifting  of  her  finger.  Giustina 
was  a  big  creature,  usually  sleepy  and  not  inclined  to 
move  quickly;  but  she  was  capable  of  exerting  consid 
erable  strength  in  an  emergency.  The  instant  she  felt 
Tocktamish's  hand  at  her  waist,  she  rose  with  a  quick, 
serpentine  motion  that  unwound  her,  as  it  were,  from 
his  encircling  hold,  and  almost  before  he  knew  that  she 
was  on  her  feet  she  had  fled  from  the  room  and  slammed 
the  door  behind  her. 

Tocktamish  tried  to  follow  her,  but  he  stumbled 
successively  over  the  still  unconscious  dame  and  the  still 
moaning  Corner,  so  that  when  he  reached  the  door  at 
last  his  purpose  had  undergone  a  change,  and,  as  he 
thought,  an  improvement.  Women  never  ran  out  of  the 
house  into  the  street,  he  argued;  therefore  Giustina 
was  now  upstairs  and  would  stay  there;  hence  it  would 
be  wiser  to  finish  the  peacock  and  anything  else  he  could 
lay  hands  on  before  going  to  pay  her  a  visit.  For  Tock 
tamish  found  the  food  and  the  wine  to  his  liking,  and 
such  as  were  not  to  be  had  every  day,  even  by  a  Tartar 
officer  with  plenty  of  money  in  his  wallet.  He  was 
tolerably  steady  still,  as  he  made  his  way  back  towards 
his  seat. 

His  eye  fell  on  Omobono,  flattened  against  the  wall 
and  still  in  a  palsy  of  fear ;  for  all  that  has  been  told  since 
Corner  had  fallen  and  Polo  had  run  away 'had  occupied 
barely  two  minutes. 

Tocktamish  suddenly  felt  lonely,  and  the  little  secre 
tary  amused  him.  He  took  him  by  the  collar  and 
whirled  him  into  Giustina's  vacant  chair  at  the  table. 


278  ARETHUSA  CHAP. 

'You  may  keep  me  company,  while  I  finish  my 
dinner,'  he  explained.  'I  cannot  eat  alone  —  it  dis 
turbs  my  digestion.' 

He  roared  with  laughter,  and  slapped  Omobono 
on  the  back  playfully.  The  little  man  felt  as  if  he  had 
been  struck  between  the  shoulders  by  a  large  ham,  and 
the  breath  was  almost  knocked  out  of  his  body ;  and  he 
wondered  how  in  the  world  his  tight  hose  had  survived 
the  strain  of  his  sitting  down  so  suddenly. 

'You  look  starved,'  observed  the  Tartar,  in  a  tone  of 
concern,  after  observing  his  face  attentively.  'What 
you  want  is  food  and  drink,  man ! ' 

With  a  sudden  impulse  of  hospitality  he  began  to  heap 
up  food  on  Giustina's  unused  plate,  with  a  fine  indif 
ference  to  gastronomy,  or  possibly  with  a  tipsy  sense  of 
humour.  He  piled  up  bits  of  roast  peacock,  little  salt 
fish,  olives,  salad,  raisins,  dried  figs,  candied  strawberries, 
and  honey  cake,  till  he  could  put  no  more  on  the  plate, 
which  he  then  set  before  Omobono. 

' Eat  that,'  he  said.     'It  will  do  you  good/ 

Then  he  addressed  himself  to  the  peacock  again,  with 
a  good  will. 

Omobono  would  have  got  up  and  slipped  away, 
if  he  had  dared.  Next  to  his  bodily  fear,  he  was  op 
pressed  by  the  terrible  impropriety  of  sitting  at  his 
master's  table,  where  the  guests  should  have  been. 
This  seemed  to  him  a  dreadful  thing. 

'Really,  sir,'  be  began,  'if  you  will  allow  me  I  would 
rather ' 


Do  not  talk.    Eat 


xv  ARETHUSA  279 

Tocktamish  set  the  example  by  tearing  the  meat  off 
a  peacock's  leg  with  his  teeth. 

'You  need  it,'  he  added,  with  his  mouth  very  full. 

The  poor  secretary  looked  at  the  curiously  mixed  mess 
which  his  tormentor  had  set  before  him,  and  he  felt  very 
uncomfortable  at  the  mere  idea  of  tasting  the  stuff. 
Then  he  glanced  at  the  Tartar  and  saw  the  latter's 
bloodshot  eye  rolling  at  him  hideously,  while  the  shark- 
like  teeth  picked  a  leg  bone,  and  terror  chilled  his  heart 
again.  What  would  happen  if  he  refused  to  eat? 
Tocktamish  dropped  the  bone  and  filled  two  glasses. 

'  To  Messer  Carlo  Zeno ! '  he  cried,  setting  the  wine  to  his 
lips. 

Omobono  thought  a  little  wine  might  steady  his 
nerves,  and,  moreover,  he  could  not  well  refuse  to  drink 
his  master's  health. 

'Good!'  laughed  Tocktamish.  'If  you  cannot  eat, 
you  can  drink!' 

Just  then  Corner  groaned  piteously,  where  he  lay  in  a 
heap  on  the  floor.  His  nose  was  much  hurt,  but  he  was 
even  more  badly  frightened.  The  Tartar  was  not 
pleased. 

'If  that  man  is  dead,  take  him  out  and  bury  him!' 
he  cried,  turning  on  Omobono.  'If  he  is  alive,  kick  him 
and  tell  him  to  hold  his  tongue !  He  disturbs  us  at  our 
dinner.' 

Omobono  thought  he  saw  a  chance  of  escaping, 
and  rose,  as  if  to  obey.  But  the  Tartar's  long  arm 
reached  him  instantly  and  he  was  forced  back  into  his 
seat. 


280  ARETHUSA 


CHAP. 


'I  thought  you  meant  me  to  take  him  away/  he  feebly 
explained. 

1 1  was  speaking  to  the  slaves/  said  Tocktamish  gravely, 
though  there  was  no  servant  or  slave  within  hearing. 

The  unfortunate  merchant,  who  was  not  at  all  un 
conscious,  and  had  probably  groaned  with  a  vague  idea 
of  exciting  compassion,  now  held  his  peace,  for  he  did 
not  desire  to  be  kicked,  still  less  to  be  taken  out  and 
buried.  The  Tartar  seemed  satisfied  by  the  silence  that 
followed.  After  another  glass  he  rose  to  his  feet  and  took 
Omobono  by  the  arm ;  considering  his  potations  he  was 
still  wonderfully  steady  on  his  legs. 

'Where  is  the  strong  box?'  he  asked,  dragging  the 
secretary  towards  the  door  opposite  to  the  one  through 
which  Giustina  had  gone  out. 

'  There  is  no  money  in  the  house/  cried  Omobono,  in 
renewed  terror.  '  I  swear  to  you  that  there  is  no  money ! ' 

'Very  well/  answered  the  Tartar,  who  had  taken 
the  keys  from  the  table.  'Show  me  the  empty  box." 

'There  is  no  strong  box,  sir/  answered  the  secretary, 
resolving  to  control  his  fear  and  die  in  defending  his 
master's  property. 

The  difficulty  was  to  carry  out  this  noble  resolution. 
Tocktamish  grabbed  him  by  both  arms  and  held  him  in 
the  vice  of  his  grasp. 

'Little  man/  he  said  gravely.  'There  is  a  box, 
and  I  will  find  the  box,  and  I  will  put  you  into  the  box, 
and  I  will  throw  the  box  into  the  water.  Then  you  will 
know  that  it  is  not  good  to  lie  to  Tocktamish.  Now 
show  me  where  it  is.' 


xv  ARETHUSA  281 

Omobono  shrank  to  something  like  half  his  natural 
size  in  his  shame  and  fear,  and  led  the  way  to  the  count 
ing-house.  Once  only  he  stopped,  and  made  a  gallant 
attempt  to  be  brave,  and  tried  to  repeat  his  queer  little 
prayer,  as  he  did  on  all  the  great  occasions  of  his  life. 

'  0  Lord,  grant  wealth  and  honour  to  the  Most  Serene 
Republic/  he  began,  and  though  he  realised  that  in  his 
present  situation  this  request  was  not  much  to  the  point, 
he  would  have  gone  on  to  ask  for  victory  over  the  Geno 
ese,  on  general  principles. 

But  at  that  moment  he  felt  something  as  sharp  as  a 
pin  sticking  into  him  just  where  his  hose  would  naturally 
have  been  most  tight,  and  where,  in  fact,  the  strain  that 
pulled  them  up  was  most  severe;  in  that  part  of  the 
human  body,  in  short,  which,  as  most  of  us  have  known 
since  childhood  is  peculiarly  sensitive  to  pain.  There 
was  no  answer  to  such  an  argument  a  posteriori;  the 
little  man's  head  went  down,  his  shoulders  went  up,  and 
he  trotted  on ;  and  though  he  could  not  be  put  off  from 
finishing  his  prayer  he  had  reached  the  door  of  the  count 
ing-house  when  he  was  only  just  beginning  to  pray  that 
he  might  have  strength  to  resist  curiosity,  a  request  even 
more  out  of  place,  just  then,  than  a  petition  for  the  de 
struction  of  the  Genoese.  A  moment  later  he  and  Tock- 
tamish  entered  the  room,  and  the  Tartar  shut  the  door 
behind  him. 

Neither  of  the  two  had  heard  two  little  bare  feet 
following  them  softly  at  a  distance ;  but  when  the  door 
was  shut  Lucilla  ran  nimbly  up  to  it  and  quickly  drew 
the  great  old  iron  bolt  which  had  been  left  where  it  had 


282  AKETHUSA 


CHAP. 


once  been  useful,  at  a  time  when  the  disposition  of  the 
house  had  been  different.  Lucilla  knew  that  all  the 
windows  within  had  heavy  gratings,  and  that  neither 
Omobono  nor  his  captor  could  get  out. 

Giustina  had  fled  upstairs,  as  women  generally  do 
to  save  themselves  from  any  immediate  danger.  They 
are  born  with  the  idea  that  when  a  house  has  more  than 
one  story  the  upper  one  is  set  apart  for  them  and  their 
children,  as  indeed  it  always  was  in  the  Middle  Ages,  and 
they  feel  sure  that  there  must  be  other  women  there  who 
will  help  them,  or  defend  them,  or  hide  them.  For  it 
is  a  curious  fact  that  whereas  women  distrust  each  other 
profoundly  where  the  one  man  of  their  affections  is  con 
cerned,  they  rely  on  each  other  as  a  whole  body,  banded 
together  to  resist  and  get  the  better  of  the  male  sex,  in  a 
way  that  would  do  credit  to  any  army  in  an  enemy's 
country.  Therefore  Giustina  went  upstairs,  quite  certain 
of  finding  other  women. 

Now  there  was  but  one  door  on  the  upper  landing, 
and  that  was  Zoe's,  and  it  was  open;  and  just  outside 
it  Lucilla  was  hiding  in  the  curtain,  listening  to  the 
strange  sounds  that  came  up  from  below;  but  when 
Giustina  ran  in  without  seeing  her,  the  little  slave 
stayed  outside  and  slipped  downstairs  noiselessly,  lis 
tened  again  at  the  dining-room  door,  watched  the  Tartar 
and  the  secretary  from  a  place  of  safety,  and  then  ran 
nimbly  after  them  on  purpose  to  lock  them  in,  as  she  did, 
for  she  was  a  clever  little  slave  and  remembered  the  bolt. 

Meanwhile  Giustina  rushed  on  like  a  whirlwind  till 
she  fell  panting  on  the  divan  beside  Zoe,  hardly  seeing 


XT  ARETHUSA  283 

her  at  all,  and  staring  at  the  door,  through  which  she 
expected  every  moment  to  see  the  burly  Tartar  enter  in 
pursuit ;  so  that  Yulia,  who  guessed  the  danger,  ran  and 
shut  it  of  her  own  accord. 

Then  Giustina  drew  a  long  breath  and  looked  round, 
and  she  met  Zoe's  eyes  scrutinising  her  face  with  a  look 
she  never  forgot. 

1  That  monster ! '  she  exclaimed,  by  way  of  explanation 
and  apology. 

Zoe  had  heard  nothing,  for  the  house  was  solidly  built, 
and  she  had  not  the  least  idea  who  had  frightened 
Giustina.  It  occurred  to  her  that  Gorlias  might  be  in 
the  house,  and  that  on  being  seen  by  the  Venetians  it  had 
suited  him  to  terrify  them  in  order  to  get  out  again 
without  being  questioned. 

'You  are  Giustina  Polo,'  she  said.  'I  am  Arethusa, 
Messer  Carlo  Zeno's  slave.  Will  you  tell  me  what  has 
happened  ? ' 

Giustina  had  now  recovered  herself  enough  to  see 
that  this  Arethusa  was  very  lovely,  and  she  momen 
tarily  forgot  the  danger  she  had  escaped. 

'  You  are  his  slave ! '  she  repeated  slowly,  and  still 
breathing  hard.  'Ah  —  I  begin  to  understand.' 

'So  do  I,'  Zoe  answered,  looking  at  the  handsome, 
heavy  face,  the  dyed  hair,  and  marble  hands. 

There  was  something  like  relief  in  her  tone,  now  that 
she  had  examined  her  rival  well. 

'When  did  Carlo  buy  you?'  asked  Giustina, growing 
coldly  insolent  as  she  recovered  her  breath  and  realised 
her  social  superiority. 


284  ARETHUBA  <:|IAF> 

'I  think  it  was  just  five  weeks  ago/  Zoe  answered 
simply.  'But  if,  seems  as  if  I  had  always  bee,,  here.' 

M  have  no  doubt/  said  (JiuHtina.  'Five  week;;! 
Yes,  I  understand  now.' 

Then  a  fancied  sound  waked  her  fear  of  pursuit,  a^ain, 
and  her  eyes  turned  quickly  towards  the  door.  YuJia 
was  standing  beside  if,,  listening  wif.h  her  ea,r  to  the  era.ek  ; 
she.  shook  her  head  a,;;  she  met .  ( Hiistina's  anxious  Clarice. 
Then-  vv;i:;  nolliin^;  no  one  was  eornin^. 

'You  had  beUer  U'll  rnn  wluif,  h;i,;;  [i;q>f)c.n»-d/  /(>(• 
said.  'You  met  some  one;  who  frightened  you/  she. 
suggested. 

(iiiistinasaw  <,h;i,f.  7>or  was  in  eornplr-te  ignor?i,rir.(«  of  fhe 

Tartar's  visit,  and  she  told  what  she  had  seen  and  heard 
downstairs.  As  she  went  on,  explaining  that  Tock- 
tamish  demanded  ten  thousand  ducats  in  Zeno'sname, 

Zoe'.s  expression  gre.w  more,  anxious,  for  ;;hc.  |';d  lier-cd  (.he. 
l.ruf.fi  from  f,fie.  f)roke.n  a.nd  exaggerated  narrafive.  After 
failing,  in  hi:;  a,ff.e.in[)t  fo  free.  Johanne.s,  Ze.no  had  fallen 
into  the  hands  oi  I  he  soldiers  he  had  won  over  to  the 
revolution;  they  demanded  an  e.normou;;  ransom,  and 
if  if-  was  not  forthcoming  they  would  |rive  him  up  to 
AndronicMis. 

It  wan  bad  enough,  yet  it  was  be.tter  than  it  mivht 
Jiavct  bee.n,  for  if,  me.;i,nt  f,hat  7>eno  was  still  alive,  and  safe, 
and  would  not,  lie.  hurt,  so  Ion?'  a:-:  hi:;  raptors  eould  be. 
made,  to  wait  for  the.  money  they  asked. 

'Ten  thousand  duea.t:,!'  /,o<  repeated.  'It  is  more, 
l.han  r.a,n  e.vc.r  be.  ;'ot  t,o;'ct  her  ! ' 

'My  father  e.ould    pa,y  twiee  an  mue.h    if   he   f)lea,:cd/ 


xv  ARETHTJSA  285 

answered  the  rich  merchant's  daughter,  vain  of  his 
immense  wealth.  'But  I  hardly  think  he  will  give  any 
thing/  she  added  slowly,  while  she  watched  Zoe's  face 
to  see  what  effect  the  statement  might  have. 

'Messer  Carlo  has  many  friends,'  Zoe  answered 
quietly.  'But  if  he  is  alive  it  is  very  probable  that  he 
may  come  home  without  paying  any  ransom  at  all. 
And  if  he  does,  he  will  certainly  repay  the  soldiers  for 
the  trick  they  have  played  him.' 

'  You  do  not  seem  anxious  about  him,'  said  Giustina, 
deceived  and  surprised  by  her  assumed  calmness. 

1  Are  you  ? '  Zoe  asked. 

At  that  moment  Yulia  opened  the  door,  for  she  had 
been  listening  from  within  and  had  heard  her  compan 
ion's  bare  feet  on  the  pavement  outside.  Lucilla  slipped 
in,  almost  dancing  with  delight  at  her  last  feat,  and 
looking  like  a  queer  little  sprite  escaped  from  a  fairy 
tale. 

'I  have  locked  them  up  in  the  counting-house,  Ko- 
k6na!'  she  cried.  'The  Tartar  giant  and  the  secretary! 
They  are  quite  safe ! ' 

She  laughed  gleefully  and  Yulia  laughed  too.  Gius 
tina  suddenly  recollected  her  mother,  who  had  fainted  in 
the  dining-room.  As  for  her  father,  her  knowledge  of 
his  character  told  her  that  since  there  had  been  danger 
he  was  certainly  in  a  place  of  safety.  She  did  not  care 
what  became  of  Marin  Corner,  whom  she  detested  be 
cause  he  had  once  dared  to  ask  for  her  hand,  though  he 
was  a  widower  of  fifty.  But  her  mother  was  entitled 
to  some  consideration  after  all,  if  only  for  having  brought 


286  ARETHTJSA  CHAP. 

into  the  world  such  a  wonderful  creature  as  Gius- 
tina  really  believed  herself  to  be.  Yet  in  her  heart  the 
young  woman  felt  a  secret  resentment  against  her  for 
having  grown  so  enormously  fat ;  since  it  very  often  hap 
pens  that  as  daughters  grow  older  they  grow  more  and 
more  like  their  mothers,  and  Giustina  was  aware  that  she 
herself  was  already  rather  heavy  for  her  age.  'It  would 
be  a  terrible  thing  to  be  a  fat  woman  at  thirty,  and  it 
would  be  her  mother's  fault  if  she  were.  Many  daughters 
are  familiar  with  this  argument,  though  they  may  cry 
out  and  rail  at  the  story-teller  in  the  bazaar  who  has 
betrayed  it  to  the  young  men. 

Giustina  rose  with  much  dignity  now  that  she  was 
fully  reassured  as  to  the  safety  of  the  house.  Zoe  was 
questioning  Lucilla,  who  could  hardly  answer  without 
breaking  into  laughter  at  the  idea  of  having  imprisoned 
Omobono  and  the  terrible  Tartar.  The  little  secretary 
had  never  been  unkind  to  any  one  in  his  life,  but  once  or 
twice,  when  the  master  had  been  out  and  he  had  been  on 
his  dignity,  he  had  found  the  slave-girls  loitering  on  the 
stairs  and  had  threatened  them  with  the  master's  dis 
pleasure  and  with  a  consequent  condign  punishment 
if  they  were  ever  again  caught  doing  nothing  outside  their 
mistress's  apartment;  and  it  was  therefore  delightful 
to  know  that  he  was  shut  up  with  Tocktamish,  in  terror 
of  his  life,  and  that  his  tremendous  dignity  was  all  gone 
to  pieces  in  his  fright. 

'You  are  a  clever  girl/  said  Zoe.  'I  only  hope  the 
door  is  strong.' 

'I  called  the  servants  and  the  slaves  before  I  came 


XV 


ARETHUSA  287 


upstairs/  Lucilla  answered.  'I  left  them  piling  up 
furniture  against  the  door.  A  giant  could  not  get  out 
now.' 

'Poor  OmobonoP  Zoe  exclaimed.  'How  frightened 
he  must  be.' 

Giustina  meanwhile  prepared  to  go  away,  settling 
and  smoothing  the  folds  of  her  gown,  and  pressing  her 
hair  on  one  side  and  the  other.  Yulia  brought  her  a 
mirror  and  held  it  up,  and  watched  the  young  lady's 
complacent  smile  as  she  looked  at  her  own  reflection. 
When  she  had  finished  she  barely  nodded  to  Zoe,  as  she 
might  have  done  to  a  slave  who  had  served  her,  and  she 
went  out  in  an  exceedingly  stately  and  leisurely  manner, 
quite  sure  that  she  had  impressed  Zoe  with  her  im 
measurable  superiority.  She  was  much  surprised  and 
displeased  because  Zoe  did  not  rise  and  remain  respect 
fully  standing  while  she  went  out,  and  she  promised 
herself  to  remember  this  also  against  the  beautiful 
favourite  when  she  herself  should  be  Carlo  Zeno's 
wife. 

But  at  a  sign  from  Zoe,  Lucilla  followed  her  down 
stairs  since  there  was  no  one  else  to  escort  her;  and  a 
few  minutes  later  Yulia  saw  the  little  party  come  out 
upon  the  landing  below.  The  fat  lady  in  green  silk 
was  in  a  very  limp  condition,  the  embroidered  roses 
seemed  to  droop  and  wither,  and  she  was  helped  by  three 
of  Zeno's  men ;  Marin  Corner  was  holding  a  large  napkin 
to  his  injured  nose,  so  that  he  could  not  see  where  he 
put  his  feet  and  had  to  be  helped  by  the  door  porter. 
As  for  Sebastian  Polo,  his  wife  and  daughter  well  knew 


288  AKETHUSA  CHAP,  xv 

that  he  was  by  this  time  safe  at  home,  and  was  probably 
recovering  his  lost  courage  by  beating  his  slaves. 

'They  are  gone/  said  Yulia,  when  the  boat  had  shoved 
off  at  last. 

Zoe  rose  then,  and  went  slowly  to  the  window.  She 
stood  there  a  few  moments  looking  after  the  skiff,  and  in 
spite  of  her  deep  anxiety  a  faint  smile  played  round  her 
tender  mouth  as  she  thought  of  her  meetingwithGiustina ; 
but  it  vanished  almost  at  once.  Her  own  situation  was 
critical  and  perhaps  dangerous. 

She  knew  that  although  she  was  a  slave  she  was  the 
only  person  in  the  house  who  could  exercise  any  author 
ity  now  that  Omobono  was  locked  up  in  the  counting- 
house,  and  that  it  would  be  impossible  to  let  him  out 
without  liberating  Tocktamish  at  the  same  time,  which 
was  not  to  be  thought  of.  If  the  Tartar  got  out  now  he 
would  probably  murder  the  first  person  he  met,  and  every 
one  else  whom  he  found  in  his  way ;  indeed,  Zoe  thought 
it  not  impossible  that  he  was  already  murdering  Omo 
bono  out  of  sheer  rage. 

'Come/  she  said  to  Lucilla  'We  must  go  down 
stairs  and  see  what  can  be  done.' 


CHAPTER  XVI 

NEITHER  Tocktamish  nor  his  victim  knew  that  Lucilla 
has  slipped  the  bolt  after  them,  for  Omobono  was  too 
terrified  to  hear  anything  but  the  Tartar's  voice,  and  the 
latter  was  just  in  that  state  of  intoxication  in  which  a 
man  perceives  nothing  that  is  not  closely  connected 
with  the  idea  that  possesses  him  for  the  time  being ;  it  is 
a  state  of  mind  familiar  to  those  whose  business  it  is  to 
catch  men,  or  to  cheat  -them. 

The  strong  box  stood  against  the  wall  at  the  farther 
end  of  the  room,  and  close  to  the  high  desk  at  which 
Omobono  usually  worked.  When  he  came  to  it  the 
secretary  stood  still,  and  Tocktamish  bent  down  and 
began  to  fumble  with  the  keys. 

The  box  had  three  locks,  each  having  a  hasp  that 
closed  with  a  strong  spring  when  the  lid  was  shut  down, 
and  each  requiring  a  separate  key.  It  was  a  large  chest, 
completely  covered  with  sheet-iron  and  heavily  bound 
with  iron  straps,  the  whole  being  kept  bright  by  daily 
polishing. 

Tocktamish  could  not  make  the  keys  fit,  and  desisted 
with  an  oath. 

'Open  it!'  he  commanded,  seizing  the  trembling 
.secretary  by  the  collar  and  forcing  him  to  his  knees 
before  the  chest. 

u  289 


290  ARETHUSA  CHAP. 

It  would  have  been  death  to  disobey,  in  the  Tartar's 
present  mood.  Omobono  put  each  key  into  the  lock 
to  which  it  belonged,  turned  each  three  times,  and  the 
middle  one  a  fourth  time,  which  had  the  effect  of  drawing 
back  all  the  springs  at  once ;  at  the  same  time  he  raised 
the  heavy  lid  a  little  with  one  hand,  and  then  opened 
it  with  both. 

Tocktamish  began  to  throw  the  contents  out  on  the 
floor  with  eager  haste,  seizing  upon  the  money-bags 
first;  but  these  were  not  many,  nor  were  they  very 
heavy,  for  the  young  merchant's  capital  was  invested 
in  many  enterprises  and  was  rarely  lying  idle,  and  as  for 
spare  cash  he  had  taken  out  a  goodly  sum  within  the  past 
two  days  to  be  given  away  to  the  guards  at  the  palace. 
The  Tartar  soon  saw  that  there  were  not  a  thousand  gold 
ducats  in  the  chest,  and  there  was  but  a  little  silver. 
The  rest  of  the  contents  consisted  of  accounts,  papers, 
and  parchments,  many  of  which  represented  wealth, 
but  could  not  be  turned  into  gold  by  a  thief.  Tock 
tamish  had  an  ignorant  barbarian's  primitive  idea  of 
riches,  and  being  profoundly  disappointed  he  at  once 
became  furiously  angry. 

'  Where  is  the  treasure  ? '  he  roared,  and  his  face  grew 
purple. 

He  shook  Omobono  like  a  rat,  as  he  repeated  his 
question  again  and  again.  The  wretched  secretary 
felt  that  his  hour  was  indeed  come,  and  though  he  tried 
to  speak  and  protest  he  really  made  no  sound.  Then 
Tocktamish  remembered  his  own  words. 

'I  said  I  would  drown  you  in  the  box!'    he  cried. 


xvi  ARETHUSA  291 

'And  by  the  sun  and  moon,  full  and  new,  I  will !  I  will, 
by  the  vine,  the  wine,  and  the  drinkers,  you  rat,  you 
miserable  Italian  flea,  you  skinny  little  bag  of  bones !' 

Thereupon  he  hove  up  Omobono  sideways  by  one  arm 
and  one  leg  and  dropped  him,  fainting,  into  the  empty 
money-chest,  of  which  he  instantly  shut  the  lid.  It 
closed  with  a  loud  snap  as  the  three  springs  simultane 
ously  fell  into  the  slots  in  the  three  hasps.  At  the 
same  moment  Omobono  lost  consciousness;  his  last 
impression  had  been  that  he  was  killed  and  was  to  wake 
up  in  purgatory,  and  he  had  made  one  wild  attempt  to 
say  a  prayer  when  Tock tarnish  whirled  him  off  his  feet, 
but  he  could  only  remember  the  last  words  — 

'.  .  .  strength  to  resist  curiosity.' 

Then  everything  was  dark,  the  big  locks  snapped 
above  his  head  and  he  knew  nothing  more.  Having 
successfully  accomplished  this  brave  feat,  the  tipsy 
giant  gravely  sat  down  on  the  chest  to  think,  for  he  had 
already  forgotten  that  he  had  meant  to  throw  it  into  the 
Golden  Horn,  and  besides,  even  in  his  condition,  he  knew 
very  well  that  four  men  could  hardly  have  moved  such  a 
weight.  As  he  sat  he  stooped  down  and  drew  the 
scattered  contents  of  the  chest  towards  him,  and  picked 
the  small  bags  from  the  heaps  of  documents.  Then  it 
occurred  to  him  that  it  would  be  more  convenient  to  put 
all  the  coin  into  one  sack  which  he  could  fasten  to  his 
belt.  It  would  not  be  a  very  heavy  weight,  and  it 
was  not  possible  to  cram  all  the  bags  into  his  wallet. 
A  thousand  gold  ducats  only  weighed  about  twenty 
pounds,  by  goldsmiths'  weight. 


292  AKETHUSA  CHAP. 

When  he  had  put  all  together  in  a  soft  leathern  sack 
which  he  found  empty,  he  got  upon  his  feet,  with  the 
idea  of  going  back  to  rifle  the  house  since  he  had  not  found 
what  he  expected  in  the  safe.  It  was  familiar  work  to 
him,  for  after  he  had  left  Greece  he  had  been  a  robber 
before  he  had  turned  respectable  by  taking  service  with 
the  Emperor.  He  kicked  the  strong  box  before  he  went 
away. 

'Good-bye,  little  man!'  he  laughed. 

But  there  was  no  answer,  and  at  the  idea  that  Omo- 
bono  was  such  a  fragile  creature  as  to  have  died  of 
fright,  he  laughed  louder  and  slapped  his  huge  thigh 
with  his  hand.  It  seemed  quite  inexpressibly  funny  to 
him  that  any  one  should  actually  die  of  fear,  of  all  dis 
orders  in  the  world. 

He  had  fastened  the  leathern  sack  securely  to  his 
belt,  and  he  went  to  the  door  to  let  himself  out.  When 
he  found  it  fastened  he  looked  at  it  curiously,  and 
scratched  his  big  head,  trying  to  remember  whether  he 
had  locked  it  after  him  or  not,  for  he  recollected  that 
he  had  shut  it  lest  any  one  should  come  upon  him  sud 
denly.  But  there  was  no  key  in  the  lock  on  the  inside. 
He  might  have  dropped  it,  or  slipped  it  into  his  wallet, 
and  he  began  to  look  for  it,  going  round  and  round  the 
room  and  kicking  the  papers  and  account-books  hither 
and  thither.  It  was  not  to  be  seen,  and  the  windows 
were  heavily  grated ;  but  he  did  not  doubt  his  strength 
to  break  the  door  down.  That  was  a  mere  trifle  after 
all. 

He  shook  it  violently,  struck  it,  kicked  it,  and  shook 


xvi  ARETHUSA  293 

it  again,  but  to  his  stupefaction  it  would  not  budge  an 
inch.  The  servants  had  pushed  a  heavy  marble  table 
against  it,  and  had  piled  up  half  a  ton  of  furniture ;  he 
might  as  well  have  tried  to  break  through  the  wall. 
Then  it  occurred  to  him  that  Omobono  might  have  taken 
the  key.  He  would  open  the  box,  though  it  was  a  pity 
to  disturb  a  dead  man  in  such  an  excellent  coffin. 

But  the  box  could  not  be  opened  any  more  than  the 
door,  for  the  springs  had  snapped,  and  he  did  not  under 
stand  the  complicated  locks.  He  tried  again  and  again, 
but  failed  each  time.  Perhaps  the  secretary  was  not 
dead  after  all.  Tocktamish  would  speak  to  him,  and 
ask  him  how  to  open  the  safe. 

'Little  man/  he  said,  'I  will  let  you  out  if  you  will  tell 
me  how  to  use  the  keys.'  But  the  little  man  did  not 
answer.  If  he  was  alive  and  heard,  he  had  no  desire  to  be 
let  out  while  his  tormentor  was  in  the  house.  At  the 
thought  that  he  could  perhaps  hear,  but  would  not 
speak,  Tocktamish  went  into  a  paroxysm  of  fury. 

He  seized  the  high  stool  that  stood  beside  the  desk 
and  swung  it  with  terrific  force,  bringing  it  down  on  the 
strong  box,  so  that  it  flew  into  splinters  with  an  appalling 
din.  He  raged,  he  foamed  at  the  mouth,  he  bawled  and 
yelled,  and  he  smashed  one  piece  of  furniture  after 
another  on  the  heavy  iron  without  producing  the  smallest 
impression  on  it,  and  without  getting  the  least  answer 
from  Omobono,  who  was  still  half-unconscious,  happily 
for  his  nerves,  and  was  dreaming  that  he  had  taken  refuge 
in  a  baker's  oven  during  a  terrible  thunderstorm. 

The  stool  was  reduced  to  kindling  wood,  two  large 


294  AEETHUSA  CHAP. 

chairs  had  followed  it,  and  Tocktamish  was  in  the  act  of 
heaving  up  the  desk  itself,  sending  inkstand,  pens,  and 
papers  flying  to  the  four  corners  of  the  room,  and  de 
termined  to  crack  the  strong  box  with  one  tremendous 
blow,  when  a  musical  voice  spoke  gently  through  the 
window  nearest  to  him.  Zoe  and  her  maids  were  there, 
and  the  whole  household  of  men-servants  and  slaves  were 
behind  them.  The  three  girls  were  standing  on  the  broad 
stone  seat  that  ran  round  the  outside  of  the  house  in  the 
Italian  way,  and  they  could  easily  look  through  the  bars. 
In  her  haste  Zoe  had  not  veiled  herself,  and  when  the  Tar 
tar  caught  sight  of  her  beautiful  face  at  the  window,  the 
effect  on  his  susceptible  sentiments  was  instantaneous. 
The  vision  was  a  hundred  times  more  lovely  than  the 
handsome  Giustina  who  had  escaped  him.  He  had 
never  seen  any  one  like  Zoe  as  she  stood  outside  in  the 
quiet  afternoon  sunshine.  For  a  moment  or  two  he  was 
almost  sober ;  the  desk  fell  from  his  hands  upon  the  iron 
chest,  and  was  not  even  broken,  and  Tocktamish's 
hands  hung  down  by  his  sides  while  he  stared  in  stupid 
wonder. 

Zoe  was  glad  that  there  were  iron  bars  between  him 
and  her,  for  she  had  never  seen  a  human  being  more 
like  a  raging  wild  beast.  She  had  looked  anxiously  for 
Omobono,  but  as  there  was  no  trace  of  him  nor  of  any 
blood,  she  at  once  decided  that  he  had  been  able  to  get 
out  by  some  secret  way,  after  Lucilla  had  barred  the 
door. 

'  Where  is  Messer  Carlo  ? '  were  the  words  which  arrested 
Tocktamish  in  the  act  of  smashing  the  desk. 


xvi  ARETHTJSA  295 

He  stood  gazing  at  Zoe  stupidly,  and  as  he  did  not 
answer  she  repeated  her  question,  watching  him  quietly 
so  that  he  should  understand  that  he  was  completely 
in  her  power.  When  he  heard  her  voice  again  he  made  a 
sort  of  instinctive  attempt  to  smooth  himself,  as  the  pea 
cock  spreads  his  tail  before  the  female ;  he  pulled  out  his 
immense  moustaches,  drew  his  shaggy  beard  through  his 
two  hands,  settled  his  fur  papakh  on  his  head,  and 
smiled  complacently  as  he  approached  the  window, 
prepared,  in  his  own  estimation,  to  win  the  heart  of  any 
woman  in  Constantinople.  The  exercise  of  breaking  up 
the  furniture  had  probably  done  him  good,  for  he  walked 
quite  steadily,  with  his  eyes  wide  open  and  his  big  head  a 
little  on  one  side. 

'Messer  Carlo  is  quite  safe  and  very  well,'  he  answered 
when  he  was  near  the  grating.  'He  has  sent  me  to  get 
him  a  little  money,  which  he  greatly  needs.' 

1  You  have  a  singular  way  of  executing  his  com 
mission,'  observed  Zoe,  looking  at  the  splinters  of  the 
smashed  furniture. 

Tocktamish  felt  that  the  havoc  round  him  must  be 
explained. 

'I  have  been  killing  the  rats,'  he  said.  'It  is  extraor 
dinary  how  many  rats  and  mice  "get  into  counting- 
houses!' 

'Where  is  Messer  Carlo  ?'  Zoe  asked  a  third  time. 

'Sweet  woolly  ewe-lamb  of  heaven,'  said  Tocktamish, 
leaning  on  the  window-sill  and  bringing  his  face  close  to 
the  bars,  'if  you  will  only  give  me  one  little  kiss,  I  will 
tell  you  where  Carlo  is !' 


296  ARETHUSA  CHAP. 

Zoe  stepped  to  one  side  along  the  stone  seat  on  which 
she  stood,  for  she  saw  that  he  was  going  to  slip  one  of  his 
hands  through  the  grating  to  catch  her ;  and  even  with 
the  bars  between  them  he  looked  as  if  he  could  twist 
one  of  her  arms  off  if  she  resisted  him.  Indeed,  she  was 
hardly  out  of  his  reach  in  time.  He  laughed  rather 
vacantly  as  he  grasped  the  air.  The  grating  projected 
several  inches  beyond  the  window,  like  the  end  of  a 
cage,  as  the  gratings  generally  do  in  old  Italian  houses ; 
and  though  Zoe  was  on  one  side,  Tocktamish  could  still 
look  at  her. 

'If  you  will  come  inside,  I  will  tell  you  what  you  wish 
to  know,  my  little  dove/  he  said  with  an  engaging  leer, 
for  he  did  not  really  believe  that  any  woman  could  resist 
him. 

'Thank  you/  Zoe  answered.  'I  will  not  come  in, 
but  I  will  warn  you.  If  you  will  not  tell  me  where 
Messer  Carlo  is,  I  shall  have  you  shot  with  the  master's 
crossbow,  like  a  mad  dog.' 

'Shall  I  get  the  bow?'  asked  the  voice  of  Carlo's  man, 
the  Venetian  gondolier,  who  was  an  excellent  shot, 
and  had  won  a  prize  at  the  Lido. 

But  Tocktamish  laughed  scornfully. 

'Your  crossbow  cannot  shoot  through  the  shutters/ 
he  said,  for  they  were  very  heavy  ones,  at  least  three 
inches  thick.  'Besides/  he  added,  'I  can  sit  on  the  floor 
under  the  window,  and  you  will  not  even  see  me. ' 

'If  we  cannot  shoot  you,  we  can  starve  you/  retorted 
Zoe. 

'Little   ewe-lamb/   said   the   Tartar,    'the   heart   of 


xvi  AKETHTJSA  297 

Tocktamish  is  fluttering  for  you  like  a  moth  in  a  lamp. 
For  one  kiss  you  shall  have  anything  you  ask  ! ' 

'Do  you  understand  that  I  mean  to  starve  you?' 
Zoe  asked  sternly. 

'  Oh  no,  my  beautiful  pink-and-white  rabbit !  You 
will  not  be  so  hard-hearted!  And  besides,  if  you  will 
not  let  me  out  and  give  me  a  kiss,  my  men  will  come 
presently  and  burn  Carlo's  house  down,  and  I  shall 
carry  you  away !  Ha  ha !  You  had  not  thought  of  it ! 
But  Tocktamish  is  not  caught  in  the  trap  like  a  cub. 
He  is  an  old  wolf,  and  knows  the  forest.  My  men  know 
I  am  here,  and  if  I  do  not  go  back  to  them  within  this 
hour  they  will  come  to  get  me.  That  was  agreed,  and 
I  can  wait  as  long  as  that.  Then  sixty  of  them  will 
come,  and  before  night  we  shall  take  Carlo  to  the  Em 
peror  and  give  him  up,  and  tell  all  we  know ;  and  to-mor 
row  morning  he  will  be  on  a  stake  in  the  middle  of  the 
Hippodrome,  and  it  will  be  the  third  day  before  he  is  quite 
dead !  Ha  ha !  I  remember  how  we  watched  that  old 
scoundrel  Michael  Rhangabe" !  I  and  my  men  were  on 
duty  at  that  execution ! ' 

Zoe's  cheeks  turned  ghastly  white,  and  her  eyes 
gleamed  dangerously.  If  there  had  been  a  weapon 
in  her  hand  at  that  moment  she  could  have  aimed  well 
through  the  grating,  and  Took  tarnish's  days  would  have 
ended  abruptly.  But  on  the  other  side  of  the  bars  the 
drunken  Tartar  was  laughing  at  his  own  skill  in  frighten 
ing  her,  for  he  thought  she  turned  pale  from  fear. 

'  Can  no  one  silence  this  brute  ? '  she  cried  in  a  tone  that 
trembled  with  anger. 


298  ARETHUSA  CHAP. 

'It  is  easily  done/  said  a  voice  she  knew. 

She  turned  and  looked  down  from  the  little  elevation 
of  the  stone  seat,  and  she  saw  the  impassive  face  of 
Gorlias  Pietrogliant  looking  up  to  her. 

'Come  into  the  house,  Kokona/  he  said,  holding  up  a 
hand  to  help  her  down.  'We  will  send  him  a  pitcher  of 
Messer  Carlo's  oldest  wine  to  help  him  pass  an  hour 
before  his  men  come  to  burn  the  house  down ! ' 

Zoe  understood  the  wisdom  of  the  advice ;  Tocktamish 
would  drink  himself  into  a  stupor  in  a  short  time. 

'The  astrologer  is  right/  she  said  to  the  servants. 
'Come  in  with  me,  all  of  you.'  She  led  the  way,  but 
Gorlias  lingered  a  moment,  stepped  upon  the  stone  seat, 
and  spoke  to  the  prisoner  in  a  low  voice. 

'They  will  be  here  in  half  an  hour/  he  said.  'Mean 
while  I  will  send  you  wine  to  drink.  Are  you  hungry  ? ' 

'Hungry?'  Tocktamish  laughed  at  the  recollection 
of  the  peacock.  'I  never  dined  better!  But  send  me 
some  wine,  and  when  we  divide,  I  will  have  that  white- 
faced  girl  for  my  share.  The  men  may  have  the  money 
here.  Tell  them  so.' 

He  slapped  the  well-filled  leathern  sack  at  his  girdle 
as  he  spoke. 

'As  you  please/  Gorlias  answered  indifferently. 

He  stepped  to  the  ground  again  and  reached  the  door 
in  time  to  enter  with  the  last  of  the  train  that  followed 
Zoe.  In  the  dining-hall  things  had  been  left  as  they 
were  when  Tocktamish  and  Omobono  went  out.  The 
table  was  in  confusion,  and  flooded  with  wine  that  had 
run  down  to  the  floor,  and  two  or  three  chairs  were  upset. 


XVI 


ARETHUSA  299 


Gorlias  filled  a  silver  pitcher  with  Chian;  but  when  he 
turned  towards  the  window  Zoe  was  the  only  one  who 
saw  him  empty  into  the  wine  the  contents  of  a  small 
vial  which  he  seemed  to  have  had  ready  in  the  palm  of 
his  hand.  He  called  Carlo's  man. 

'Take  it  to  him/  he  said.  'You  can  easily  pass  it 
through  the  bars.' 

'It  is  not  much  wine/  observed  the  man  doubtfully. 
'He  will  drink  that  at  a  draught.' 

'If  he  asks  for  more,  fill  the  pitcher  again/  answered 
Gorlias.  'If  he  falls  asleep,  let  me  know.' 

The  man  went  off. 

'Clear  away  all  that/  said  Zoe  to  the  men-servants 
who  stood  looking  on.  'The  master  must  not  find  this 
confusion  when  he  comes  home.' 

Her  tone  and  her  manner  imposed  obedience,  and 
besides,  they  knew  that  Tocktamish  was  safe  for  a  while. 
They  began  to  clear  the  table  at  once,  and  Zoe  left  the 
room  followed  by  Gorlias  and  her  two  maids,  who  had 
been  silent  witnesses  of  what  had  passed. 

Upstairs,  they  left  her  alone  with  the  astrologer, 
and  disappeared  to  discuss  in  whispers  the  wonderful 
things  that  were  happening  in  the  house. 

'  Where  is  he  ? '  asked  Zoe,  as  soon  as  the  maids  were 
gone. 

'He  is  in  a  dry  cistern  near  the  north  wall  of  the 
city.' 

'  Hiding?7 

'  No  —  a  prisoner.  In  escaping  last  night  he  ran 
among  the  soldiers  who  were  to  have  helped  us,  and 


300  ARETHUSA 


CHAP. 


they  held  him  for  a  ransom.  The  Tartar  came  to  extort 
the  money.  You  know  all.' 

1  At  least,  he  is  safe  for  the  present/  Zoe  said,  but  very 
doubtfully,  for  she  did  not  half  believe  what  she  said. 

'No/  Gorlias  answered;  'he  is  not  safe  for  long,  and 
we  must  get  him  out.  They  demand  a  ransom,  but 
they  know  well  enough  that  even  if  they  get  it  they  will 
not  dare  to  let  him  go  free,  since  he  could  hang  them  all 
by  a  word.' 

1  What  will  they  do?' 

'If  they  can  get  the  money  they  will  let  him  starve 
to  death  in  the  cistern.  If  they  do  not,  they  will  give 
him  up  to  Andronicus  for  the  reward.  The  Emperor 
has  proclaimed  that  he  will  give  ten  pounds  of  gold  to  any 
one  who  will  bring  him  Carlo  Zeno,  dead  or  alive.  That 
is  not  enough.' 

'The  Emperor  knows  it  was  he?'  asked  Zoe  with 
increasing  anxiety. 

'Yes.' 

'How?' 

'I  do  not  know.    Some  one  has  betrayed  us.' 

'Us  all?' 

'I  fear  so.' 

'  But  you  yourself  ?    Do  you  dare  go  about  ? ' 

'  I  have  many  disguises,  and  they  who  know  the  fisher 
man  do  not  know  the  astrologer.' 

'  But  if  you  should  be  taken  ? ' 

'A  man  cannot  change  his  destiny.  But  look  here. 
I  have  something  from  Johannes  already.  Pie  has 
changed  his  mind;  he  regrets  not  having  let  us  take 


XVI 


ARETHUSA  301 


him  out  last  night,  and  he  sends  me  this  by  the  captain's 
wife.' 

Gorlias  produced  a  parchment  document. 

' What  is  it?' 

'The  gift  of  Tenedos  to  Venice.' 

'  Ah !    If  Messer  Carlo  were  only  free ! ' 

'Yes  —  if!'  Gorlias  shook  his  head  thoughtfully. 
'It  will  not  be  easy  to  send  an  answer  to  this,'  he  went  on. 
'The  woman  brought  it  to  me  at  the  risk  of  her  life, 
and  said  it  would  be  impossible  for  her  to  come  again. 
The  guard  is  doubled,  and  a  very  different  watch  will 
be  kept  in  future.  I  do  not  believe  that  we  can  bring 
Johannes  out,  as  we  might  have  done  in  spite  of  those 
fellows  last  night.  Yet  I  am  sure  that  if  Messer  Carlo 
were  at  liberty  he  would  try.  He  would  at  least  send 
word,  in  answer  to  this.  But  the  days  are  over  when 
we  used  to  send  letters  up  and  down  by  a  thread  —  the 
tower  is  watched  from  the  river  now.7 

'  Can  you  not  get  in  by  a  disguise  ? ' 

'No.  There  is  not  the  least  chance  of  gaining  ad 
mittance  at  present.' 

'I  could,'  said  Zoe  confidently.  'I  am  sure  I  could! 
If  I  went  in  carrying  a  basket  of  linen  on  my  head  and 
dressed  like  a  slave-girl  in  blue  cotton  with  yellow  leath 
ern  shoes,  I  am  sure  they  would  let  me  go  to  the  captain's 
wife.' 

'What  if  your  basket  were  searched  and  the  letter 
found?' 

'I  would  put  it  into  my  shoe.  They  would  not  look 
for  it  there.' 


302  AKETHUSA  CHAP. 

'  You  would  run  a  fearful  risk.' 

'For  him,  if  it  were  of  any  use/  Zoe  answered.  'But 
it  will  not  help  him  at  all,  and  if  anything  happened  to  me 
he  would  be  sorry.  Besides,  why  should  we  send  a 
message  that  pretends  to  come  from  Messer  Carlo  when 
he  himself  is  a  prisoner?' 

'This  is  the  case,'  Gorlias  answered.  'The  soldiers 
will  never  let  him  out  till  they  feel  safe  themselves; 
and  the  only  way  to  make  them  sure  that  there  is  no 
danger  is  really  and  truly  to  bring  Johannes  out  and  set 
him  on  the  throne  again.  So  long  as  Andronicus  reigns 
and  may  take  vengeance  on  them,  they  will  keep  Messer 
Carlo  a  prisoner  to  give  up  at  any  moment,  or  to  starve 
him  to  death  for  their  own  safety  —  unless  they  murder 
him  outright.  But  I  do  not  believe  that  any  ten  of  them 
would  dare  to  set  upon  him,  for  they  know  him 
well.' 

Zoe  smiled,  for  she  was  proud  to  love  a  man  whom  ten 
men  would  not  dare  to  kill. 

'  Then  the  only  way  to  save  him  is  to  free  Johannes  ? ' 
she  said.  'Yes,'  she  went  on,  not  waiting  for  an  answer, 
'I  think  you  are  right.  Even  if  we  got  them  their  ten 
thousand  ducats  they  would  not  let  him  out  as  long  as 
Andronicus  is  at  Blachernse.' 

'That  is  the  truth  of  it,'  Gorlias  answered.  'Neither 
more  nor  less.  Messer  Carlo's  life  depends  upon  it.' 

'Then  it  must  be  done,  come  what  may.  Thank 
God,  I  have  a  life  to  risk  for  him  V 

'You  have  two,'  said  Gorlias  quietly.  'You  have 
mine  also.' 


xvi  ARETHUSA  303 

'You  are  very  loyal  to  Johannes,  even  to  risking 
death.  Is  that  what  you  mean  ? ' 

'More  than  that.' 

'For  Messer  Carlo,  then?'  Zoe  asked.  'You  owe  him 
some  great  debt  of  gratitude?7 

'I  never  saw  him  until  quite  lately,'  Gorlias  answered. 
'You  need  not  know  why  I  am  ready  to  die  in  this 
attempt,  Kokona  Arethusa.' 

Some  one  knocked  at  the  outer  door ;  Zoe  clapped  her 
hands  for  her  maids,  and  one  of  them  went  to  the 
entrance.  The  voice  of  Zeno's  man  spoke  from  outside. 

'The  Tartar  is  fast  asleep  already,'  he  said,  'and  I  can 
hear  the  secretary  moaning  as  if  he  were  in  great  pain; 
but  I  cannot  see  him  through  the  window.  He  must  be 
somewhere  in  the  room,  for  it  is  his  voice.' 

Zoe  made  a  movement  to  go  towards  the  door,  but 
Gorlias  raised  his  hand. 

'  I  will  see  to  it/  he  said,  '  I  will  have  the  fellow  taken 
back  to  his  quarters.' 

Zoe  bit  her  lip  for  she  knew  that  it  would  be  cruel  and 
cowardly  to  hurt  even  such  a  ruffian  as  Tocktamish, 
while  he  was  helpless  under  the  drug  Gorlias  had  given 
him.  But  the  words  he  had  spoken  rankled  deep,  and 
it  was  not  likely  that  she  should  forget  them. 

'  Do  as  you  will/  she  said. 

Half  an  hour  later  poor  little  Omobono  was  in  his 
bed,  and  Zeno's  man  was  giving  him  a  warm  infusion 
of  marsh-mallows  and  camomile  for  his  shaken  nerves. 
The  money-bags  and  the  papers  had  been  restored  to  the 
strong  box  in  the  counting-house,  and  Tocktamish  the 


304  ARETHUSA  CHAP,  xvi 

Tartar,  sunk  in  a  beatific  slumber,  was  being  carried  to  his 
quarters  in  a  hired  palanquin  by  four  stalwart  bearers. 

That  was  the  end  of  the  memorable  feast  in  Carlo 
Zeno's  house. 

But  Zoe  sat  by  the  open  window,  and  her  heart  beat 
sometimes  very  fast  and  sometimes  very  slow;  for  she 
understood  that  the  plight  of  the  man  she  loved  was 
desperate  indeed. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

THE  position  of  Zeno  was  quite  clear  to  Zoe  now,  and  a 
great  wave  of  happiness  lifted  her  and  bore  her  on  with 
it  as  she  realised  that  she  might  save  his  life  just  when 
his  chances  looked  most  hopeless,  and  that  whether 
she  succeeded  or  failed  her  own  must  certainly  be  staked 
for  his.  Heroism  is  nearer  the  surface  in  women  than  in 
most  men,  and  often  goes  quite  as  deep. 

Zoe  had  understood  very  suddenly  how  matters  stood, 
and  that  Tocktamish  and  his  men  meant  to  let  Zeno 
perish,  simply  because  he  might  ruin  them  all  if  he 
regained  his  liberty ;  or,  if  it  were  found  out  that  he  was 
taken,  they  intended  to  hand  him  over  to  Andronicus. 
It  was  not  at  all  likely  that  they  would  set  him  free  even 
if  they  got  the  great  ransom  they  demanded. 

But  if  by  any  means  Johannes  could  be  brought 
suddenly  from  his  prison,  all  Constantinople  would  rise 
in  revolution  to  set  him  on  the  throne,  and  it  would  be  as 
dangerous  to  keep  his  friend  Zeno  in  confinement  as  it 
now  seemed  rash  to  his  captors  to  let  him  out.  The  first 
thing  to  be  done  was  to  reach  Johannes  himself  and  warn 
him,  and  this  could  only  be  accomplished  by  a  woman. 
Gorlias  knew  the  soldiers,  and  had  as  much  influence  with 
them  as  any  one,  perhaps,  and  whatever  could  be  done 
from  without  he  would  do;  yet  it  was  quite  certain  that 

x  305 


306  ARETHUSA  CHAP. 

the  men  could  not  be  got  together  again  unless  Johannes 
were  actually  free. 

The  difficulty  lay  there.  To  reach  him  was  one 
thing,  and  was  within  the  bounds  of  possibility ;  to  bring 
him  out  would  be  quite  another.  But  Zoe  had  confi 
dence  in  the  devotion  of  the  captain's  wife,  of  whom 
Gorlias  had  told  her,  and  believed  that  in  such  a  case 
two  women  could  do  more  than  ten  men. 

Yet  she  saw  that  it  might  be  fatal  to  let  the  impris 
oned  Emperor  know  that  Zeno  was  himself  a  prisoner. 
To  prevent  this  she  conceived  the  plan  of  writing  a  letter 
in  the  Venetian's  name,  accepting  on  behalf  of  the  Re 
public  the  gift  of  Tenedos,  and  promising  instant  help 
and  liberty.  Zeno  had  given  his  word  that  he  would 
renew  the  attempt  for  the  sake  of  Tenedos,  though  for 
nothing  else;  this  condition  being  accepted,  she  knew 
that  nothing  could  hinder  him  from  keeping  his  word  if  he 
were  free.  She  would  therefore  only  be  writing  for  him 
what  he  himself  would  write  if  he  could ;  and  besides,  if 
she  needed  a  more  valid  excuse,  it  would  be  done  to  save 
his  life. 

Her  learning  stood  her  in  good  stead  now  as  she  care 
fully  penned  the  answer  on  stout  Paduan  paper.  She 
made  Zeno  thank  the  Emperor  on  behalf  of  the  Serene 
Republic  for  his  generous  gift,  and  say  that  he  was  ready, 
that  not  a  moment  should  be  lost,  and  that  in  an  hour 
the  sovereign  should  be  restored  to  his  people,  or  Carlo 
Zeno  would  die  in  the  attempt. 

This  last  phrase,  as  it  ran  from  her  pen,  seemed  to  her 
a  little  too  theatrical  to  be  Zeno's  own,  but  she  deter- 


xvn  ARETHUSA  307 

mined  to  let  it  stand  for  the  sake  of  the  impression  it 
should  make  on  Johannes.  Zeno  would  no  more  have 
mentioned  such  a  trifle  as  the  risk  of  life  and  limb  in 
anything  he  meant  to  do  than  seamen  would  stop  to 
talk  of  danger  when  ordered  to  shorten  sail  in  a  danger 
ous  gale.  Such  things  are  a  part  of  the  game.  No  sailor 
will  spin  a  yarn  about  a  storm  unless  he  has  seen  the 
Flying  Dutchman  or  the  Sea  Serpent  or  the  Man  in  the 
Top;  he  is  in  danger  half  his  life.  But  the  average 
modern  soldier,  who  may  be  under  fire  three  or  four 
times  in  his  career,  repeats  the  story  of  his  battles  to  any 
one  who  will  listen.  Zoe  did  not  know  whether  Johannes 
had  ever  seen  Zeno's  handwriting  or  not,  but  that  mat 
tered  little  in  those  days,  when  many  fine  gentlemen 
could  not  write  their  own  letters.  She  folded  the  sheet 
neatly  in  a  small  square,  and  placed  it  in  her  shoe  by 
way  of  experiment,  to  see  whether  it  would  stay  there 
while  she  walked. 

She  did  all  this  while  Gorlias  was  gone,  and  before  he 
came  back  the  afternoon  was  half  over,  though  the 
spring  days  were  growing  long.  He  told  her  that  the 
Tartar  was  safe  in  his  quarters,  where  he  would  probably 
sleep  till  midnight  at  the  very  least,  to  the  infinite  rage 
and  disgust  of  his  men.  They  had  expected  him  to 
return  laden  with  gold  or  with  the  secure  promise  of  it, 
and  he  had  come  back  not  only  empty-handed,  but  hope 
lessly  drunk;  and  as  they  knew  him  well,  but  did  not 
know  that  he  had  swallowed  a  dose  of  opium  that  would 
have  sent  a  tiger  to  sleep,  they  meditated  in  gloomy 
thirst  on  the  quantity  of  strong  wine  he  must  have 


308  ARETHUSA  CHAP. 

absorbed  during  an  absence  which  had  only  lasted  two 
hours.  What  he  had  told  Zoe  of  their  coming  to  fetch 
him  if  he  stayed  too  long  had  been  a  pure  invention  to 
frighten  her ;  they  did  not  even  know  where  he  had  been, 
for  he  had  merely  announced  his  intention  of  going  out 
to  collect  Zeno's  ransom  from  the  Venetian  merchants, 
and  his  reputation  for  strength  and  ferocity  was  such  that 
they  had  not  dreamed  of  his  needing  help. 

Thus  much  Gorlias  had  found  out,  and  he  had  also 
ascertained  that  the  men  were  in  a  thoroughly  bad  temper 
in  consequence  of  the  turn  affairs  had  taken,  and  much 
more  inclined  to  murder  Zeno  than  to  let  him  out.  As 
for  his  whereabouts,  Gorlias  only  knew  that  he  was  in 
one  of  the  many  dry  cisterns,  which  existed  under  old 
Constantinople,  and  which  had  never  been  in  use  since 
the  crusaders  had  cut  the  aqueducts  and  sacked  the 
city  more  than  a  hundred  and  seventy  years  earlier. 
The  men  who  had  shut  up  Zeno  knew  where  he  was, 
but  it  was  very  likely  that  they  had  not  told  their  com 
rades.  In  those  last  days  of  the  Empire  the  foreign 
mercenaries  were  little  better  than  bands  of  robbers, 
half-trained  at  that,  who  preyed  on  the  peasant  part  of 
the  population,  obeying  their  officers  only  when  it  was 
worth  the  trouble,  and  not  even  practising  thieves' 
honour  in  the  division  of  plunder.  Not  a  day  passed 
then  without  brawl  and  bloodshed  amongst  the  soldiery ; 
hardly  a  night  went  by  without  some  act  of  violence 
and  depredation  for  which  they  were  responsible.  They 
had  stolen  under  Johannes,  they  robbed  under  Anclroni- 
cus;  under  Johannes  restored,  they  would  steal  again. 


ABETHUSA  309 

And  they  drank  perpetually.  If  Sultan  Amurad  had  been 
the  man  that  Mohammed  the  Conqueror  turned  out  to 
be,  the  Turks  would  have  been  in  possession  of  Constanti 
nople  fully  eighty  years  before  they  actually  stormed  it, 
and  with  a  tenth  of  the  loss. 

If  Zeno  had  relied  on  the  eight  hundred  soldiers  who 
had  agreed  to  make  a  revolution  for  Johannes,  he  had 
done  so  because  he  knew  they  could  be  trusted  to  rise 
if  there  was  a  chance  of  plundering  the  palace  and  of 
cutting  the  throats  of  a  few  hundred  of  their  divers 
countrymen  who  had  been  preferred  before  them  as  a 
body-guard,  and  were  therefore  their  sworn  enemies. 
But  the  instant  those  delightful  prospects  disappeared 
they  cared  no  more  who  was  Emperor  than  a  cur  cares 
who  throws  him  a  bone ;  the  existing  condition  of  things 
was  good  enough  for  them,  and  they  would  risk  nothing 
to  change  it,  unless  change  meant  wine,  women,  and  loot. 
Many  of  them  were  in  reality  Mohammedans  like  Tock- 
tamish,  and  looked  upon  all  Christians,  including  their 
employers,  as  their  lawful  prey  —  as  dogs,  moreover, 
and  no  great  fighters  at  that,  but  mostly  cowardly  curs. 
It  was  agreeable  to  live  amongst  them  because  one  could 
beat  them  and  drink  wine  without  the  disapproval 
of  the  greybeards;  but  as  for  respecting  them,  a  Tartar 
like  Tocktamish  would  as  soon  have  thought  of  fearing 
them. 

Zoe  knew  all  this,  and  so  did  Gorlias,  and  they  agreed 
that  unless  Johannes  could  be  brought  visibly  before  the 
soldiers  there  was  little  chance  of  success,  and  none  of 
saving  Zeno.  The  difficulty  lay  in  the  fact  that  Johannes 


310  ARETHUSA 


CHAP 


was  kept  in  a  place  even  more  inaccessible  than  Zeno's 
cistern.  The  whole  matter  was  a  vicious  circle.  He 
could  not  be  set  free  unless  the  troops  rose  for  him; 
but  the  troops  would  not  rise  unless  they  saw  him  in 
their  midst;  and  if  there  were  no  rising  Zeno  would  be 
starved  to  death  in  the  well.  Gorlias  Pietrogliant  was  a 
man  of  resources,  but  the  problem  completely  baffled  him. 

He  stood  silent  and  in  thought  at  Zoe's  window; 
she  sat  quite  motionless  on  the  great  divan,  watching 
him  and  thinking  too.  Her  knees  were  drawn  up  almost 
to  her  chin,  and  her  folded  hands  clasped  them  while 
she  looked  straight  at  the  astrologer's  back  with  un 
winking  eyes.  Neither  he  nor  she  knew  how  long  they 
kept  silence;  it  might  have  been  five  minutes,  or  it 
might  have  been  half  an  hour.  Time  plays  queer  tricks 
when  people  are  in  great  danger  or  in  great  distress. 

Then  Zoe's  expression  began  to  change  very  slowly, 
as  an  idea  dawned  upon  her.  It  was  as  if  she  saw  some 
thing  between  her  and  Gorlias,  something  that  took 
shape  by  degrees,  something  new  and  unexpected  that 
presently  grew  to  be  a  whole  picture,  and  from  a  picture 
became  a  real  scene,  full  of  living  people,  moving  and 
talking ;  the  tender  mouth  opened  a  little  as  if  she  were 
going  to  speak,  and  the  delicate  nostril  quivered,  the 
colour  spread  like  dawn  in  her  pale  cheeks,  and  a  deep 
warm  light  came  into  her  eyes. 

When  the  scene  was  over  and  the  vision  disappeared, 
she  nodded  slowly,  as  if  satisfied  that  in  her  waking  dream 
she  had  dreamed  true. 

'I  have  thought  of  a  way,'  she  said  at  last. 


Then,  all  at  once,  he  felt  that  she  had  received  one  of  those  inspirations  of  the 
practical  sense  which  visit  women  who  are  driven  to  extremities. 


xvii  ARETHUSA  311 

Gorlias  turned,  crossed  the  room,  and  stood  beside 
her  to  listen ;  but  he  did  not  think  she  had  any  practicable 
scheme  to  propose,  and  at  first,  while  she  was  speaking, 
he  was  much  more  inclined  to  follow  his  own  line  of 
thought  than  hers.  Then,  all  at  once,  he  felt  that  she 
had  received  one  of  those  inspirations  of  the  practical 
sense  which  visit  women  who  are  driven  to  extremities, 
and  which  have  been  the  wonder  of  men  since  Jacob's 
mother  showed  him  how  to  steal  his  father's  blessing. 
It  is  quite  certain  that  it  was  a  woman  who  showed 
Columbus  the  trick  with  the  egg,  when  he  himself  was 
trying  to  balance  one  on  its  point.  Only  a  woman  could 
have  thought  of  anything  so  simple. 

And  now,  after  Gorlias  had  vainly  racked  his  ingenious 
brain  for  an  idea,  it  was  the  girl  that  suggested  the  only 
possible  one.  He  grasped  it  easily. 

*  It  is  a  daring  plan,  and  it  could  not  succeed  in  broad 
daylight,'  he  said,  when  she  had  finished,  'but  it  may  at 
dusk.' 

'It  must/  Zoe  said  emphatically.  'If  it  fails,  we  shall 
not  see  each  other  again.' 

'Not  unless  it  occurs  to  Andronicus  to  crucify  us 
together,'  Gorlias  answered,  rather  gravely.  'Very 
much  depends  on  our  timing  ourselves  as  exactly  as 
possible.' 

'Yes.  Let  it  be  a  little  more  than  half  an  hour  after 
sunset,  just  when  the  dusk  is  closing  in.  Have  you 
everything  you  need?' 

'  I  can  get  what  is  lacking.  We  have  three  good  hours 
still  before  us.' 


312  ARETHUSA  CHAP. 

' Go,  then,  and  do  not  be  late.  You  know  what  will 
happen  to  me  if  you  do  not  come  just  at  the  right  time.' 

'You  are  risking  more  than  I/  Gorlias  said. 

'I  have  more  to  lose,  and  more  to  win/  Zoe  answered. 

She  was  thinking  of  Zeno,  —  of  life  with  him,  of 
life  without  him,  and  of  the  life  she  would  give  for  his. 
But  Gorlias  wondered  at  her  courage,  for  it  was  held 
nothing  in  those  days  to  tear  a  living  man  or  woman  to 
shreds,  piecemeal,  on  the  mere  suspicion  of  treason,  and 
that  would  surely  be  her  fate  if  he  could  not  carry  out 
precisely  and  successfully  the  plan  she  had  thought  of. 
A  delay  of  half  an  hour  might  mean  death  to  her,  though 
it  would  not  of  necessity  affect  the  result  so  far  as  Johan 
nes  and  Zeno  were  concerned. 

Gorlias  left  her  to  make  his  own  preparations.  When 
he  was  gone  Zoe  sent  Yulia  for  Zeno's  own  man,  Vito, 
the  Venetian  boatman.  He  came  and  stood  on  the 
threshold  while  she  spoke  to  him,  out  of  the  maids' 
hearing,  and  in  Italian,  lest  they  should  creep  near  and 
listen. 

'Vito/  said  Zoe,  'how  is  the  secretary?' 

'Excellency/  the  Venetian  answered,  'fear  is  an  ugly 
sickness,  which  makes  healthy  men  tremble  worse  than 
the  fever  does.' 

He  either  forgot  that  he  was  supposed  to  be  speaking 
to  a  slave  who  had  no  more  claim  to  be  called  'Ex 
cellency'  than  he  had  himself,  and  less,  if  anything; 
or  else  he  had  made  up  his  mind  that  this  beautiful 
Arethusa  whom  he  had  to-day  seen  for  the  first  time, 
was  not  a  slave  at  all,  but  a  great  lady  in  disguise. 


xvn  ARETHUSA  313 

'You  are  never  frightened,  are  you,  Vito?'  she  asked 
with  a  smile. 

'I?'  Vito  grinned.  'Am  I  of  iron,  or  of  stone? 
Or  am  I  perhaps  a  lion  ?  When  there  is  fear  I  am  afraid/ 

'But  the  master  is  never  frightened/  suggested  Zoe. 
'Is  he  of  stone,  then?' 

'  Oh,  he ! '  Vito  laughed  now,  and  shrugged  his 
shoulders.  'Would  you  compare  me  with  the  master? 
Then  compare  copper  with  gold.  The  master  is  the 
master,  and  that  is  enough,  but  I  am  only  a  sailor  man 
in  his  service.  If  there  is  fighting,  I  fight  while  I  see 
that  I  am  the  stronger,  but  when  I  see  that  I  may  die 
I  run  away.  We  are  all  thus.' 

'  But  surely  you  would  not  run  away  and  leave  Messer 
Carlo  to  be  killed,  would  you  ?' 

'No,'  Vito  answered  quite  simply.  'That  would  be 
another  affair.  It  would  be  shame  to  go  home  alive  if 
the  master  were  killed.  When  one  must  die,  one  must, 
as  God  wills.  It  may  be  for  the  master,  it  may  be  for 
Venice.  But  for  myself,  I  ask  you  ?  Why  should  I  die 
for  nothing?  I  run  away.  It  is  more  sensible.' 

'You  need  not  risk  being  killed  if  you  do  what  I  am 
going  to  ask,'  Zoe  said,  for  after  talking  with  the  man  she 
liked  his  honest  face,  and  thought  none  the  less  of  him 
for  his  frankness.  'It  is  a  very  simple  matter.' 

'What  is  it,  Excellency?' 

'You  need  not  call  me  that,  Vito,'  answered  Zoe.  'I 
want  you  to  row  me  at  sunset  to  the  landing  which  is 
nearest  to  the  palace  gate.  It  must  be  the  dirty  little 
one  on  this  side  of  the  Amena  tower,  is  it  not  ? ' 


CHAP. 


314  ARETHUSA 

'That  is  it.    But  without  the  master's  orders ' 

Vito  looked  at  her  doubtfully,  for  he  had  been  reminded 
that  she  considered  herself  a  slave,  and  it  occurred  to  him 
that  she  meant  to  escape  in  Zeno's  absence. 

'Messer  Carlo  would  wish  me  to  go,  if  he  were  here/ 
said  Zoe  quietly,  and  not  at  all  as  if  she  were  insisting, 
for  she  saw  what  was  the  matter. 

'  I  have  no  doubt  it  is  as  you  say/  Vito  answered.  '  But 
I  have  no  orders.' 

1  There  is  a  message  from  the  master  to  some  one  in  the 
palace/  Zoe  explained.  '  No  one  but  I  can  deliver  it.' 

'That  is  easily  said/  observed  Vito  bluntly.  'There 
are  no  orders.' 

Zoe  felt  the  blood  rising  to  her  forehead  at  the  man's 
rudeness  and  distrust  of  her,  but  she  controlled  herself, 
for  much  depended  on  obtaining  what  she  wished. 

'It  is  not  a  message/  she  said;  'it  is  a  letter.' 

'Where  is  it?'  asked  Vito  incredulously. 

'I  will  show  it  to  you/  Zoe  answered,  but  she  first 
turned  to  the  maids,  who  waited  at  the  end  of  the  room. 
'Go  and  prepare  me  the  bath/  she  said. 

The  two  disappeared,  though  they  did  not  believe  that 
their  mistress  really  wished  to  bathe  again  so  soon. 
When  they  were  gone,  she  stooped  and  took  the  letter 
from  her  shoe,  unfolded  it,  and  spread  it  out  for  Vito  to 
see.  The  effect  it  made  upon  him  was  instantaneous ;  he 
looked  at  it  carefully,  and  took  a  corner  of  it  between  his 
thumb  and  finger. 

'  This  is  the  paper  on  which  the  master  writes/  he  said, 
as  if  convinced. 


xvn  AKETHUSA  315 

It  did  not  occur  to  him  that  the  slave  Arethusa  could 
write  at  all,  nor  any  one  else  in  the  house  except  Omo- 
bono;  and  as  for  the  latter,  if  he  had  written  anything 
he  must  have  done  so  under  Zeno's  orders.  Writing  of 
any  sort  commanded  his  profound  and  almost  super 
stitious  respect. 

'This  is  certainly  a  letter  from  the  master,'  he  said, 
satisfied  at  last,  after  what  he  considered  a  thoroughly 
conscientious  inspection. 

'And  he  wishes  me  to  deliver  it,'  Zoe  said.  'If  I  am 
to  do  that,  you  must  be  good  enough  to  take  me  to  the 
landing  in  the  boat.  There  is  no  other  way.' 

'I  could  take  the  letter  myself,'  Vito  suggested. 

'No.  Only  a  woman  will  be  allowed  to  pass,  where 
this  must  go.' 

Vito  began  to  understand,  and  nodded  his  head  wisely. 

'It  is  for  Handsome  John/  he  said,  with  conviction, 
and  fixing  his  eyes  on  Zoe's.  '  It  is  for  the  other  Emperor, 
whom  the  master  wishes  to  set  free.' 

'Yes  —  since  you  have  guessed  it,'  Zoe  answered. 
'  Will  you  take  me  now  ? ' 

'  You  will  take  one  of  your  slaves  with  you,  as  you  do 
when  you  go  out  in  the  boat  with  the  secretary,  I  sup 
pose  ? ' 

Vito  still  felt  a  little  hesitation. 

'No.  I  must  go  alone  with  you.  And  I  myself  shall 
be  dressed  like  a  slave,  and  I  shall  have  a  basket  of  things 
to  carry  on  my  head  to  the  wife  of  the  gaoler/ 

'I  see,'  said  Vito,  who  really  loved  adventure  for  its 
own  sake,  and  was  much  less  inclined  to  run  away  from 


316  ARETHUSA  CHAP. 

danger  than  he  represented.  '  Did  you  say  you  wished 
to  go  at  sunset?' 

'Yes.' 

'  I  shall  be  ready.  But  it  will  be  better  to  take  an  old 
boat,  and  I  will  put  on  ragged  clothes,  to  look  like  a 
hired  boatman.' 

'Yes;   that  will  be  better.' 

Vito  went  away,  delighted  with  the  prospect  before 
him.  He  was  too  young  and  too  true  a  Venetian  not  to 
look  forward  with  pleasure  to  rowing  the  beautiful 
Arethusa  up  the  Golden  Horn,  though  he  was  only  a 
servant  and  she  was  the  master's  most  treasured  posses 
sion.  He  felt,  too,  some  manly  pride  in  the  thought 
of  possibly  protecting  her,  for  he  meant  to  follow  her 
ashore  and  look  on  from  a  distance,  to  see  whether  she 
got  safely  into  the  tower,  and  he  would  wait  until  she 
came  out.  The  master  would  expect  that  much  of  him, 
at  least. 

As  yet,  neither  Vito  nor  any  member  of  the  household, 
except  Zoe,  knew  that  Zeno  was  a  prisoner,  held  for 
ransom.  It  had  pleased  him  to  go  out  of  his  house  dur 
ing  the  previous  night,  and  some  important  business 
detained  him ;  that  was  all.  When  he  was  at  leisure  he 
would  come  home.  The  men-servants  who  had  waited 
on  the  guests  and  had  heard  Tocktamish's  words,  to  the 
effect  that  Zeno  had  sent  him  for  money,  looked  upon 
the  statement  as  a  clumsy  trick  which  the  half-drunken 
robber  was  trying  to  play  in  Zeno's  absence,  and  as 
nothing  more.  But  they  had  been  far  too  badly  fright 
ened  to  stay  and  listen,  as  has  been  seen.  To  Vito,  who 


XVII 


AKETHUSA  317 


was,  nevertheless,  by  far  the  best  of  them,  it  had  been 
a  matter  of  utter  indifference  whether  the  Tartar  cut  the 
throats  of  the  four  guests  or  not,  compared  with  the  ur 
gent  necessity  of  keeping  out  of  his  reach.  If  the  master 
had  been  present  another  side  of  their  character  would 
have  come  into  play,  but  as  he  was  absent  they  had 
thought  of  their  own  safety  first. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

THE  sun  had  set,  and  the  wide  court  of  Blachernse 
was  filled  with  purple  light  to  the  wall  tops,  like  a 
wine-vat  full  to  the  brim;  and  everything  that  was 
in  the  glow  took  colour  from  it,  as  silver  does  in 
claret,  the  polished  trappings  of  the  guards'  uniforms, 
the  creamy  marble  steps  of  the  palace,  the  white  Tuni 
sian  charger  of  the  officer  who  rode  in  just  then,  and  the 
swallows  that  circled  round  and  round  the  courtyard. 
The  world  moved  in  that  short  deep  dream  that  comes 
just  when  the  sun  has  slipped  away  to  rest,  when  the 
light  is  everywhere  at  once,  so  that  things  cast  no  shadows 
on  the  ground,  because  they  glow  from  within,  as  in 
fairyland,  or  perhaps  in  heaven. 

The  officer  rode  in  on  his  charger,  and  after  him  en 
tered  a  girl  slave,  dressed  in  coarse  blue  cotton,  and  carry 
ing  on  her  head  a  small  round  basket,  which  was  covered 
with  a  clean  white  cloth.  The  four  corners  of  the  napkin 
hung  down,  and  one  of  them  would  have  flapped  across 
her  face  if  she  had  not  held  it  between  her  teeth  to  keep 
it  down.  It  partly  hid  her  features,  and  her  head  was 
tied  up  in  a  blue  cotton  kerchief  passed  twice  round  and 
knotted  upon  her  forehead.  She  limped  a  little  as  she 
walked.  What  could  be  seen  of  her  face  was  pale  and 
quiet,  and  had  a  rather  fixed  look. 

318 


CHAP.  xvni.  ARETHUSA  319 

She  was  walking  boldly  through  the  gate,  without  slack 
ening  her  pace,  when  one  of  the  two  sentinels  stopped 
her,  and  asked  where  she  was  going.  She  stood  still, 
and  one  hand  steadied  the  basket  on  her  head,  while  the 
other  pointed  to  the  Amena  tower. 

'  My  mistress  sends  some  fine  wheat  bread  and  cream 
cheese  to  the  wife  of  the  captain  who  keeps  the  tower/ 
said  Zoe,  affecting  the  mincing  accent  very  common 
with  female  slaves  and  Greek  ladies'  maids. 

The  second  sentinel,  returning  on  his  short  beat,  now 
came  up  and  stood  on  her  other  side.  He  was  a  big 
Bulgarian,  and  he  lifted  one  corner  of  the  cloth  and  looked 
down  into  the  basket,  merely  for  the  sake  of  detaining 
the  girl.  He  saw  the  wheaten  loaves  and  the  cream 
cheese  neatly  disposed  on  a  second  napkin,  and  the  cheese 
was  nested  in  green  leaves  to  keep  it  fresh.  Both  the 
soldiers  at  once  thought  of  tasting  it  with  the  points  of 
their  daggers,  but  at  that  moment  the  officer  of  the  watch 
strolled  out  of  the  guard-house,  a  magnificent  young 
man  in  scarlet  and  gold.  The  two  sentinels  at  once 
turned  their  backs  on  the  cheese  and  Zoe,  and  marched 
away  in  opposite  directions  on  their  beats,  leaving  her 
standing  in  the  middle.  The  officer  was  far  too  high  and 
mighty  a  person  to  look  at  a  slave-girl  or  her  basket, 
and  Zoe  therefore  went  on  without  turning  her  head, 
taking  it  for  granted  that  she  was  now  free  to  enter.  In 
her  baggy  blue  cotton  clothes,  and  with  her  face  almost 
covered  by  the  napkin,  there  was  nothing  about  her  to 
attract  attention,  unless  it  were  her  slightly  limping  gait ; 
and  she  instinctively  made  an  effort  to  walk  evenly, 


320  ARETHUSA 


CHAP. 


for  she  could  not  help  feeling  ashamed  of  being  suddenly 
lame,  as  perfectly  sound  and  healthy  people  do.  But 
she  realised  that  the  folded  letter  was  in  the  wrong  shoe 
and  increased  her  lameness,  whereas  if  she  had  carried 
it  in  the  other  it  might  have  made  walking  easier. 

She  went  from  under  the  great  gate  into  the  liquid 
purple  light  in  the  court,  and  it  was  pleasant  to  be  in  it. 
But  then  again  it  made  her  think  of  yesterday,  when  she 
had  sat  in  her  window  at  sunset,  not  dreaming  of  all  that 
was  to  happen  to  her  in  one  night  and  one  day.  It 
made  her  think  of  the  man  she  loved  so  dearly,  imprisoned 
somewhere  under  the  great  city,  starving  and  thirsting 
no  doubt,  and  face  to  face  with  thoughts  of  death ;  and 
it  was  to  save  him  that  she  was  crossing  the  court 
yard  of  Blachernse  disguised  as  a  household  slave.  It 
was  because  there  was  no  other  way;  and  if  Gorlias 
Pietrogliant  failed  her,  or  came  too  late,  the  end  would 
overtake  her  in  a  few  hours,  or  perhaps  quite  suddenly, 
which  would  be  more  merciful.  She  knew  what  she 
was  doing,  and  she  did  not  deceive  herself.  They  would 
put  out  her  eyes  first;  but  that  would  be  the  least  of 
the  cruel  things  they  would  do  to  her,  if  Gorlias  failed. 

She  was  only  a  weak  girl,  after  all,  and  once  or  twice, 
when  she  thought  of  the  pain,  a  sharp  little  shiver  ran 
down  her  back  to  her  very  heels,  and  things  swam  before 
her  for  an  instant  in  the  deep  sea  of  colour ;  but  that  only 
lasted  for  a  moment,  and  when  she  reached  the  foot  of  the 
tower  and  went  in  under  the  archway  that  led  to  the 
door,  she  was  thinking  of  Zeno  again,  and  of  nothing 
else. 


xviii  ABETHUSA  321 

It  was  as  Gorlias  had  told  her.  A  very  different  watch 
was  set  there  since  the  attempt  of  the  previous  night, 
and  she  found  herself  face  to  face  with  an  obstacle  she 
had  not  anticipated.  The  iron  door  was  shut  and  was 
guarded  by  two  huge  Africans  in  black  mail  armour, 
who  stood  on  either  side  with  drawn  scimitars. 

They  looked  over  her  head  as  she  approached  them, 
and  they  seemed  to  take  no  notice  of  her  existence. 
She  thought  she  had  never  seen  such  expressionless  faces 
as  theirs;  the  features  were  as  shiny  and  motionless  as 
bronze,  and  the  purple  haze  of  the  sunset  without  filled 
the  deep  arch  and  lent  them  an  unnatural  colour  which 
was  positively  terrifying. 

'If  you  please,  kind  sirs/  Zoe  began  as  she  stood  still, 
'my  mistress  sends  some  fine  wheat  bread  and  fresh 
cream  cheese  to  the  wife  of  the  captain.' 

She  might  as  well  have  spoken  to  statues;  neither  of 
the  negroes  paid  the  slightest  attention.  But  she  was 
not  to  be  put  off  so  easily. 

'If  you  please/  she  repeated  with  pleading  emphasis 
and  more  loudly,  'my  mistress ' 

She  stopped  speaking  in  the  middle  of  the  sentence, 
suddenly  scared  by  the  immobility  of  the  two  black 
men,  and  by  their  size,  and  by  the  purple  glare  that  was 
reflected  from  their  great  polished  scimitars,  of  which 
one  noiseless  sweep  could  sever  her  head  from  her  body. 
They  were  like  the  genii  in  one  of  those  tales  of  the 
Arabian  Nights  which  Greek  story-tellers  were  then  just 
learning  from  the  Persians,  and  from  the  Tartar  mer 
chants  of  Samarcand  and  Tashkent.  Zoe  had  listened 


322  AKETHUSA  CHAP. 

to  them  by  the  hour  when  she  was  a  little  girl,  and  now 
she  suddenly  felt  an  irrational  conviction  that  she  had 
dreamed  herself  into  one  of  them,  and  that  the  imprisoned 
Emperor  was  guarded  by  supernatural  beings. 

However,  when  she  looked  at  the  motionless  features 
and  at  the  broad,  polished  blades,  she  did  not  feel  that 
painful  shiver  which  had  run  down  her  when  she  had 
thought  of  being  tortured  by  the  people  of  the  palace, 
and  she  soon  took  courage  again  and  began  to  speak  a 
third  time. 

'If  you  please/  she  said,  but  she  got  no  further,  for 
she  had  gently  plucked  at  the  mailed  sleeve  of  the  man 
on  her  right,  to  attract  his  attention,  and  he  moved  at 
once,  and  bent  down  a  little. 

He  touched  his  ear  with  his  left  forefinger  and  shook 
his  head  slowly  to  show  that  he  was  deaf,  and  pointed  to 
his  companion  and  back  to  his  own  ear  and  shook  his 
head  again;  and  then,  to  Zoe's  horror,  he  opened  his 
enormous  mouth  just  before  her  eyes,  and  she  saw  that 
it  was  empty.  He  had  no  tongue. 

Johannes  was  guarded  by  deaf  mutes,  and  Zoe  knew 
Constantinople  and  the  ways  of  the  palace  well  enough 
to  understand  that  they  were  placed  there  to  make  an 
end  of  any  one,  man  or  woman,  who  should  attempt  to 


She  tried  signs,  now.  She  took  her  basket  from  her 
head  and  set  it  down  on  the  step  between  the  sentinels, 
and  crouched  on  her  heels  to  uncover  it  and  show  the 
contents.  The  men  saw  and  nodded,  and  then  inclined 
their  heads  to  one  side  in  that  peculiar  way  which  means 


XVIII 


ARETHUSA  323 


indifference  all  over  the  East.  And  indeed  they  did 
not  care  whether  the  basket  held  cheese  or  sweetmeats, 
and  their  faces  grew  stony  again  as  they  looked  outwards, 
over  her  head. 

She  covered  up  her  little  basket  disconsolately  and  rose 
to  her  feet.  The  glow  was  beginning  to  fade  in  the 
courtyard,  and  she  felt  her  heart  sink  as  the  shadows 
deepened.  It  was  absolutely  necessary  to  the  success 
of  the  dangerous  enterprise  on  which  she  and  Gorlias 
had  embarked,  that  Johannes  himself,  or  at  least  the 
captain's  wife  should  be  warned  of  what  was  to  take 
place  in  less  than  half  an  hour.  If  this  could  not  be 
done,  everything  might  go  wrong  at  the  last  minute, 
their  cleverly  concerted  trick  would  fail  and  be  exposed, 
and  she  and  Gorlias,  and  Zeno  himself,  would  probably 
pay  for  their  audacity  with  their  lives. 

The  closed  door  between  the  sentinels  was  covered 
with  iron  and  studded  with  big  nails.  It  was  perfectly 
clear  that  it  must  be  opened  from  within,  if  at  all,  and 
that  the  men  themselves  would  have  to  knock  or  make 
some  other  signal  by  sound  in  order  to  obtain  entrance 
for  any  one  who  was  really  authorised  to  go  in.  It  was 
also  clear  that  if  the  men  on  the  other  side  of  the  door 
were  stone  deaf  like  the  two  guards,  they  could  not  hear 
any  such  knocking,  and  no  entrance  would  be  possible 
at  all  except  when  those  within  opened  for  some  reason 
of  their  own  or  at  fixed  hours.  Again,  thought  Zoe,  it 
followed  that  there  was  probably  some  one  near  who 
could  hear  sounds  from  without,  and  there  was  always 
a  bare  possibility,  in  such  times,  that  this  person  might 


324  AEETHUSA  CHAP. 

be  a  secret  friend  to  the  prisoner,  though  supposed  to 
be  one  of  his  gaolers. 

All  these  thoughts  flashed  across  her  mind  in  a  few 
seconds,  while  she  was  covering  her  basket.  She  there 
fore  took  rather  more  time  over  this  than  was  necessary, 
and  as  the  mutes  did  not  show  signs  of  driving  her  away, 
she  at  once  began  to  sing,  quite  sure  that  they  could  not 
hear  her.  It  was  a  forlorn  hope,  indeed,  but  anything  was 
worth  trying.  Her  voice  sounded  loud  and  clear  under 
the  archway :  — 

Over  the  water  to  my  love,  for  the  hour  is  come ! 

The  water,  the  blue  water,  the  water  salt  and  the  water  fresh ! 

Open,  my  very  dear  love,  open  thy  door  to  me, 

For  I  have  come  swiftly  over  the  water 

At  this  point,  to  Zoe's  inexpressible  amazement  and 
delight,  the  door  really  opened,  and  she  almost  choked 
for  sheer  joy. 

The  captain's  wife  appeared  in  the  dim  evening  light, 
standing  well  within,  and  Zoe  recognised  her  at  once 
from  the  description  Gorlias  had  given  of  her  The 
sentinels,  being  perfectly  deaf,  did  not  at  first  know 
that  the  door  had  been  opened,  as  they  stood  looking 
straight  before  them.  The  stout  woman  spoke  in  a  low 
voice. 

'By  four  toes  and  by  five  toes,'  she  said,  by  way  of 
answer  to  the  words  Zoe  had  sung. 

The  girl  lost  no  time,  for  there  was  none  to  lose,  and 
though  there  was  little  light  she  saw  that  there  were 
four  or  five  more  armed  Ethiopians  in  the  small  chamber, 
so  that  it  would  be  impossible  to  deliver  her  letter. 


XVIII 


ARETHUSA  325 


'Tell  him  from  Carlo  Zeno  to  be  ready  at  once/  she 
said  quickly,  '  and  not  to  show  surprise  at  anything  that 
happens.' 

The  deaf  mutes  outside  now  perceived  that  she  was 
speaking  with  some  one,  and  that  the  entrance  behind 
them  was  open.  She  had  just  handed  her  basket  to  the 
captain's  wife  when  the  two  turned  together  to  see  who 
had  opened,  but  almost  at  the  same  instant  the  heavy 
iron  door  swung  quickly  on  its  hinges  again  and  shut  with 
a  clang  that  echoed  out  to  the  courtyard.  Zoe  sprang 
back  hastily  lest  the  door  itself  should  strike  her  as  it 
closed,  and  the  quick  movement  hurt  her  a  little,  for 
she  made  a  false  step  on  the  foot  with  which  she  limped, 
turning  it  slightly  as  her  weight  came  upon  it. 

That  one  step  nearly  cost  her  life,  for  though  the  sen 
tinels  were  deaf  and  dumb  they  were  not  blind.  She 
thought  they  were  going  to  let  her  go  away  unhindered, 
and  she  was  already  almost  out  of  the  archway  when  she 
felt  herself  seized  by  the  arms  from  behind. 

When  she  had  stumbled,  her  low  shoe  had  turned  a 
little,  and  the  folded  letter,  now  useless,  had  fallen  out. 
As  it  was  white,  the  guards  had  seen  it  instantly  on  the 
dark  pavement,  and  one  of  them  had  picked  it  up  while 
the  other  had  caught  her. 

Zoe  instinctively  struggled  with  all  her  might  for  a 
few  seconds,  but  the  dumb  man  twisted  one  of  her  arms 
behind  her  till  it  was  agony  to  move,  and  she  was  power 
less.  Her  captor  now  handed  her  over  to  his  companion, 
who  had  sheathed  his  scimitar  and  had  placed  the  letter 
inside  his  steel  cap.  She  could  not  look  round,  but  she 


326  ARETHUSA  CHAP. 

felt  that  the  grip  on  her  twisted  wrist  changed,  and  she 
was  pushed  out  into  the  courtyard  and  made  to  walk 
in  the  direction  of  the  palace.  She  could  not  help  limp 
ing  much  more  than  before,  and  in  the  grasp  of  the  big 
Ethiopian  she  felt  what  a  small  weak  thing  she  would 
be  in  the  tormentors'  hands  if  Gorlias  did  not  come  in 
time. 

The  purple  light  had  almost  faded  below,  and  the 
grey  dusk  was  creeping  up  out  of  the  ground,  though 
the  high  upper  story  of  the  marble  palace  was  still 
bathed  in  the  evening  glow,  and  still  a  few  swallows 
circled  round  the  eaves.  Zoe  looked  up  to  the  vast 
cornices  and  at  the  fleecy  pink  clouds  that  floated  in  the 
sky,  and  as  she  was  forced  along,  almost  as  fast  as  she 
could  walk,  she  wondered  whether  she  should  ever  again 
see  the  bright  noonday  sun.  It  would  not  take  long  to 
kill  her  if  Gorlias  did  not  come  in  time. 

There  were  many  men  coming  and  going  now,  and 
there  were  guards  in  scarlet,  drawn  up  at  the  entrance 
to  the  palace  as  if  they  were  waiting.  Some  slaves, 
hastening  away,  paused  a  moment  to  watch  Zoe  go  by, 
smooth-faced  creatures  who  lived  among  the  Emperor's 
women. 

'  There  goes  five  hundred  ducats'  worth ! '  laughed  one, 
in  a  voice  like  a  girl's. 

'What  has  she  done?'  asked  another,  of  the  dumb 
Ethiopian. 

The  speaker  was  a  newcomer  in  the  palace,  and  the 
others  jeered  at  him  for  not  knowing  that  the  man  was 
one  of  the  mutes. 


xvin  ARETHUSA  327 

And  he  pushed  and  dragged  Zoe  along  without 
noticing  them.  She  looked  straight  before  her  now,  at 
the  palace  door,  and  as  she  went,  she  was  in  a  kind  of 
dream,  and  she  wondered  what  the  room  to  which  she 
was  being  taken  would  be  like,  the  place  where  she  was 
presently  to  be  tortured  if  Gorlias  did  not  come  in  time ; 
she  wondered  whether  it  would  be  light  or  dark,  and  what 
the  colour  of  the  walls  would  be. 

The  African  hurt  her  very  much  as  he  forced  her 
along,  though  she  made  no  resistance;  but  she  did  not 
think  of  the  pain  she  felt,  nor  of  the  pain  she  would  surely 
be  made  to  feel  presently.  It  was  as  if  she  were  detached 
from  her  own  personality,  and  could  speculate  about 
what  was  going  to  happen  to  her,  and  about  the  men 
who  would  ask  her  questions,  and  about  the  queer- 
looking  instruments  of  torture  that  would  be  brought, 
and  even  the  colour  of  the  executioner's  hair.  She  fancied 
him  a  red-haired  man  with  ugly,  yellow  eyes  and  bad 
teeth  that  he  showed.  She  did  not  know  whether  it 
were  fear  or  courage  that  so  took  her  out  of  herself. 

But  all  the  time  she  was  listening  for  a  distant  sound 
that  might  come,  or  that  might  not;  and  her  hearing 
grew  so  sharp  that  she  could  have  heard  it  a  mile  away, 
and  the  distance  between  her  and  the  palace  door  grew 
shorter  very  quickly,  and  the  ruthless  mute  urged  her 
along  faster  and  faster,  though  she  limped  so  badly. 

Then  her  heart  leapt  and  stood  still  a  moment,  and 
the  Ethiopian's  grasp  relaxed  a  little,  and  he  slackened 
his  pace.  Not  that  he  heard  what  she  heard,  for  he  was 
stone  deaf;  but  the  guards  who  stood  about  the  door 


328  ARBTHUSA  CHAP. 

had  begun  to  range  themselves  in  even  ranks  on  either 
side,  and  a  tall  officer  made  signs  to  the  African  to  stand 
out  of  the  way.  The  air  rang  with  the  music  of  distant 
silver  trumpets,  there  was  a  subdued  hum  of  many 
voices  and  the  trampling  of  many  horses'  hoofs  on  the 
hard  earth  outside  the  court. 

1  The  Emperor  comes ! '  cried  the  officer,  again  motion 
ing  the  mute  and  his  prisoner  away. 

The  man  understood  well  enough,  and  dragged  her 
aside  quickly  and  roughly  out  of  the  straight  way,  but 
not  out  of  sight ;  and  the  sounds  grew  louder,  and  the 
trumpet-notes  clearer,  as  the  imperial  cavalcade  passed 
in  under  the  great  gate.  First  there  rode  a  score  of 
guards  on  their  white  horses ;  six  running  footmen  came 
next,  in  short  hose  and  red  tunics  that  fitted  close  to  their 
bodies  and  glared  in  the  twilight;  then  two  officers  of 
the  household  on  their  chargers ;  and  young  Andronicus 
himself  rode  in  on  a  bay  Arab  mare  between  two  minis 
ters  of  state,  followed  by  many  more  guards  who  pressed 
close  upon  him  to  protect  him  from  any  treacherous 
attack.  He  was  dressed  all  in  cloth  of  gold,  and  his  tall 
Greek  cap  was  wrought  with  gold  and  jewels;  but  the 
day  had  gone  down,  and  neither  the  metal  nor  the 
stones  gave  any  light,  while  the  scarlet  uniforms  of  the 
guards  and  footmen  surged  about  him  like  waves  of 
blood  in  the  gathering  dusk. 

The  Ethiopian  held  Zoe  pinioned  by  the  arms  and 
looked  over  her  head  as  the  Emperor  came  near.  An 
dronicus  had  pale  and  suspicious  eyes  that  searched 
every  crowd  for  danger,  and  saw  peril  everywhere.  He 


xvin  ARETHUSA  329 

hung  his  head  a  little,  his  jaw  was  heavy,  his  lip  was 
loose,  and  his  uneasy  glance  wandered  continually 
hither  and  thither.  There  was  still  plenty  of  light  near 
the  palace,  and  Zoe  saw  every  little  thing ;  and  the  cloth 
of  gold  he  wore  was  lit  up  again  by  the  reflexion  from 
the  marble  walls. 

He  saw  the  girl,  too,  but  though  her  hands  were  behind 
her,  he  did  not  see  at  once  that  the  African  held  them, 
for  she  stood  quite  still  and  met  his  gaze.  Then  he  per 
ceived  that  the  face  was  the  most  lovely  he  had  ever 
seen,  and  he  made  a  motion  in  the  saddle  that  was  like 
the  rising  of  the  snake  when  its  prey  is  near,  and  his  pale 
eyes  gleamed,  and  his  loose  lower  lip  shook  and  moved 
against  the  upper  one. 

He  drew  rein  and  spoke  in  a  low  tone  to  the  minister 
on  his  right,  a  Greek  with  a  fawning  face,  who  instantly 
made  a  sign  to  the  girl  to  come  nearer;  and  the  Ethio 
pian  mute  saw  the  gesture,  and  pushed  her  forward  with 
one  hand,  close  to  the  Emperor's  stirrup,  and  with  the 
other  hand  he  took  his  steel  cap  very  carefully  from  his 
head,  drawing  it  down  close  to  his  head  and  over  his  ear 
so  that  the  letter  should  not  fall  out ;  then,  still  grasping 
Zoe's  wrist,  he  held  the  helmet  up  like  a  cup,  so  that 
Andronicus  might  see  what  was  in  it. 

The  action  needed  no  explaining,  for  the  young  usurper 
had  himself  ordered  that  his  father  should  be  guarded 
by  the  dumb  Ethiopians  after  the  alarm  of  the  previous 
night.  The  Emperor  looked  down  at  the  girl's  beautiful 
white  face,  but  he  took  the  letter  from  the  soldier's 
steel  cap  and  spread  it  out,  and  read  it  quickly,  and 


330  ARETHUSA  CHAP. 

then  passed  it  to  the  minister  at  his  elbow,  who  read  it 
too. 

He  looked  at  Zoe  again,  but  in  his  eyes  her  beauty 
was  all  gone  at  once.  She  was  one  of  those  monsters 
that  were  always  conspiring  against  him,  against  his 
throne  and  his  life;  she  was  one  of  those  thousands 
whom  he  saw  nightly  in  his  dreams  of  fear,  stealing  upon 
him  when  he  was  alone  and  helpless,  to  blind  him  and 
kill  him,  and  to  bear  his  crowned  father  to  the  throne 
high  on  their  shoulders.  Zoe  might  have  been  as  lovely 
as  Aphrodite  herself,  just  wafted  from  the  foam  of  the 
sea  by  the  breath  of  spring;  to  Andronicus  she  would 
have  been  but  one  of  the  countless  evil  beings  who  for 
ever  plotted  his  destruction. 

But  this  one  was  in  his  power.  He  sat  on  his  horse 
and  looked  down  at  her,  and  his  loose  lips  smiled;  yet 
her  face  was  still  and  proud,  and  in  her  poor  blue  cotton 
slave's  dress  she  faced  him  like  a  young  goddess. 

'Who  sent  you  with  this?'  he  asked  in  the  deep 
silence,  and  every  man  there  listened  for  her  answer. 

'Since  you  have  read  it,  you  know,'  she  answered, 
and  there  was  no  tremor  in  her  voice. 

'Take  care!    Where  is  this  Venetian,  this  Zeno?' 

'I  do  not  know.' 

'Take  care,  again  !    I  ask,  where  is  he  ?' 

Zoe  was  silent  for  a  moment,  and  though  she  did  not 
take  her  eyes  from  the  young  Emperor's  face  she  listened 
intently  for  a  distant  sound  that  did  not  come. 

'I  do  not  know  where  he  is,'  she  said  at  last,  'but  I 
think  you  will  see  him  before  long,  for  he  is  coming  here.' 


xvni  ARETHUSA  331 

'  Here  ? '  Andronicus  was  taken  by  surprise.  '  Here  ? ' 
he  repeated  in  wonder. 

'  Yes,  here/  Zoe  answered, '  and  soon.  He  has  business 
here  to-night.' 

'The  girl  is  mad/  said  the  Emperor,  looking  towards 
the  ministers. 

'Quite  mad,  your  august  Majesty/  said  one. 

'Evidently  out  of  her  mind,  Sire/  echoed  the  other. 
'It  will  be  well  to  put  out  her  eyes  and  let  her  go.' 

The  one  who  had  spoken  first,  the  fawning  Greek, 
made  a  sign  to  an  officer  near  him,  and  the  latter  gave 
an  order  to  one  of  the  running  footmen  who  stood 
waiting.  The  latter  instantly  ran  in  through  the  great 
open  doorway  of  the  palace.  Where  Andronicus  was, 
the  torturer  was  never  hard  to  find. 

'And  pray/  asked  the  Emperor,  with  an  ugly  smile, 
'what  possible  business  can  a  Venetian  merchant  have 
here  at  this  hour?  Will  you  please  to  tell  us?' 

'A  business  that  will  be  soon  despatched,  if  God  will/ 
answered  Zoe. 

She  could  not  look  away  from  the  man  who  had  murdered 
Michael  Rhangabe*,  and  though  she  knew  what  she  was 
risking  if  she  did  not  gain  time,  the  longing  for  just 
vengeance  was  too  strong  for  her,  so  that  she  could  not 
control  her  speech,  and  in  her  clear  young  voice  Androni 
cus  heard  an  accent  that  struck  terror  to  his  heart. 

'  She  is  not  mad ! '  he  exclaimed  in  sudden  anxiety. 
'She  knows  something!  Make  her  speak!' 

While  the  words  were  on  his  lips  the  running  footman 
returned,  and  after  him  another  man  came  quickly, 


332  ARETHUSA  CHAP. 

carrying  a  worn  leathern  bag.  He  was  very  tall  and 
thin,  and  he  stooped,  he  had  the  face  of  a  corpse  and 
there  was  no  light  in  his  eyes.  Zoe  did  not  see  him,  but 
he  came  and  stood  behind  her,  close  to  the  Ethiopian, 
and  he  fumbled  in  his  bag ;  and  all  around  the  uniforms 
of  the  guard  were  as  red  as  blood  in  the  twilight. 

'I  am  not  afraid  to  speak,  since  I  am  caught/  Zoe 
said,  answering  the  Emperor's  words,  'and  what  I  say 
is  true.  For  what  you  owe  me,  you  owe  to  many  and 
many  more,  and  the  name  of  that  debt  is  blood !' 

'  She  is  raving ! '  cried  Andronicus  in  an  unsteady 
voice. 

'No,  I  am  not  mad/  Zoe  answered,  speaking  loud 
and  clear.  'Your  reckoning  has  been  due  these  two 
years,  and  a  man  is  coming  within  the  hour  to  claim  it, 
and  you  shall  pay  all,  both  to  others  and  to  me,  whether 
you  will  or  not!' 

'Who  is  this  creature?'  asked  the  Emperor,  but  his 
cheeks  were  whiter  now. 

Not  a  sound  broke  the  silence,  and  the  man  with  the 
leathern  bag  crept  a  little  nearer  to  the  defenceless  girl, 
and  the  Ethiopian's  grip  tightened  on  her  wrists.  From 
somewhere  beyond  the  walls  of  the  courtyard  the  neighing 
of  a  horse  broke  the  stillness. 

'  Who  is  this  girl  that  dares  me  within  my  own  gates  ? ' 
Andronicus  asked  again,  turning  to  his  ministers  and 
officers. 

The  Greek  with  the  fawning  face  bent  in  his  saddle 
towards  the  young  Emperor  as  if  he  were  prostrating 
himself,  and  he  spoke  in  a  very  low  voice. 


XVIII 


AKETHUSA  333 


'Your  Majesty  would  do  well  to  have  her  tongue  torn 
out  before  she  says  more.' 

'Who  is  she,  I  say?'  cried  the  sovereign,  suddenly 
furious,  as  cowards  can  be. 

No  one  spoke.  The  corpse-faced  man  crept  nearer  to 
Zoe,  his  dull  eyes  fixed  on  her  features.  Beyond  the 
wall  and  far  off  the  unseen  horse  neighed  again.  It  was 
growing  darker,  but  all  around  the  scarlet  tunics  of  the 
guards  were  as  red  as  blood. 

Then  the  answer  came.  The  twisted  lips  of  the  tor 
mentor  moved  slowly,  and  words  came  from  them  in  a 
thin,  harsh  voice,  like  the  creaking  of  the  rack. 

'She  is  Michael  Rhangabe's  daughter.' 

'The  Protosparthos ? '  The  Emperor's  voice  shook 
again. 

The  corpse-faced  man  nodded  twice  in  assent,  and  his 
thin  lips  writhed  hideously  when  Zoe's  eyes  fell  on 
him. 

'  I  saw  her  at  the  prison  when  I  took  him  out  to  die/ 
he  said. 

His  bony  hand,  all  knotty  and  stained  from  his  horrid 
work,  took  the  girl's  delicate  chin,  forcing  her  to  turn 
her  full  face  to  him ;  and  she  quivered  from  head  to  foot 
at  his  touch.  He  knew  well  the  convulsive  shiver  that 
ran  through  the  victim  he  touched  for  the  first  time; 
he  could  feel  it  in  his  fingers  as  the  musician  feels  the 
strings ;  he  was  familiar  with  it,  as  the  fisherman's  hand 
is  with  the  tremor  and  tension  of  his  rod  when  a  fish 
strikes;  and  he  smiled  in  a  ghastly  way. 

'Yes,'  he  said,  'it  is  she.'    And  he  laughed. 


334  ARETHUSA  CHAP. 

He  held  her  by  the  chin  and  wagged  her  beautiful 
head  to  right  and  left. 

Since  the  Emperor  had  spoken  no  sound  had  been 
heard  but  the  torturer's  discordant  voice;  but  now  the 
outraged  girl's  shriek  of  fury  split  the  air. 

'  Wretch ! ' 

Her  small  hands  suddenly  slipped  through  the  Ethio 
pian's  capacious  hold.  Before  he  could  catch  her  she 
had  wrenched  herself  free  from  both  men  and  had  struck 
a  furious  blow  full  in  the  torturer's  livid  face;  and 
though  she  was  but  a  slender  girl  her  anger  gave  her  a 
man's  strength,  and  her  swiftness  lent  her  a  sudden 
advantage.  The  man  reeled  back  three  paces  before  he 
could  steady  himself  again. 

'  Hold  her ! '  cried  Andronicus,  for  he  feared  she  might 
have  a  knife  hidden  on  her,  and  both  her  hands  were  free. 

But  only  for  that  instant.  Though  the  African  was 
huge,  he  was  quick,  and  he  was  behind  her.  Almost 
before  the  Emperor  had  called  out,  Zoe  was  a  prisoner 
again,  and  the  man  she  had  struck  was  close  to  her  with 
his  battered  leathern  bag.  He  looked  up  to  Andronicus 
for  a  command  before  he  began  his  work. 

'Make  her  tell  what  she  knows,'  the  Emperor  said, 
reassured  since  she  was  again  fast  in  the  African's  great 
hands. 

He  leaned  forward  a  little,  the  better  to  hear  the  words 
which  pain  was  to  draw  from  Zoe's  lips,  and  the  Greek 
minister  settled  himself  comfortably  in  the  saddle  to 
enjoy  the  rare  amusement  of  seeing  a  beautiful  and  noble 
girl  deliberately  tortured  before  half  a  hundred  men. 


xvm  ARETHUSA  335 

Some  of  the  guards  also  pressed  upon  each  other  to  see ; 
but  there  were  some  among  them  who  had  served  under 
Rhangabe,  and  these  looked  into  one  another's  faces 
and  spoke  words  almost  under  their  breath,  that  all 
together  swelled  to  a  low  murmur,  such  as  the  tide 
makes  on  a  still  night,  just  when  it  turns  back  from  the 
ebb. 

The  sunset  had  faded,  but  there  was  light  enough  to 
see  the  dark  bruise  across  the  corpse-like  face  where  Zoe 
had  struck  it  with  all  her  might. 

The  man  opened  his  old  leathern  bag,  and  his  stained 
hands  fumbled  in  it,  amongst  irons  that  were  brown  but 
not  rusty,  and  thongs  plaited  with  wire,  and  strangely 
shaped  tools  in  which  there  were  well-greased  screws 
that  turned  easily. 

But  all  these  his  knotty  fingers  rejected.  He  knew 
each  by  the  touch.  They  were  good  enough  for  ordinary 
slaves,  or  perhaps  for  a  double-dealing  steward,  or  even 
a  lying  courtier.  For  a  highborn  maiden  victim  he  had 
an  instrument  far  more  refined  and  exquisitely  keen 
than  any  of  these  things,  and  he  treasured  it  as  a  very 
rare  possession  which  never  left  him  day  or  night;  for 
it  had  been  sent  to  him  from  very  far  away  in  the  south 
as  a  present  of  great  value ;  and  it  was  alive,  and  needed 
the  warmth  of  his  body  constantly  lest  it  should  die. 
But  there  was  something  in  the  bag  that  belonged  to  it 
and  must  be  found  before  it  could  be  taken  from  its  little 
cage  of  silver  filigree  in  the  bosom  of  the  corpse-faced 
man. 

He  found  it.    His  stained  hand  drew  from  the  bag  a 


336  AKETHUSA  CHAP. 

dry  walnut.  With  the  point  of  the  knife  he  wore  at  his 
belt  he  split  it  carefully,  and  turned  the  nut  out  of  one  of 
the  half  shells,  tossing  the  other  into  the  bag. 

The  Greek  minister  watched  him  with  the  deepest 
interest,  but  Andronicus  drummed  impatiently  with  his 
gloved  fingers  on  the  high  gilt  pommel  of  his  saddle. 
Yet  it  was  all  very  quickly  done,  and  though  there  was 
less  light  there  was  still  enough;  and  while  he  waited 
the  Emperor  again  read  the  letter  Zoe  had  dropped. 

But  she  watched  him,  calm  and  fearless,  and  ready  to 
face  death  if  need  be;  she  wondered  what  sort  of  hold 
Carlo  Zeno  would  take  on  his  neck,  when  all  was  known. 
And  she  saw  red  all  round  him  and  behind  him  and  beside 
him  up  to  his  knees,  the  red  of  the  guards'  tunics  that 
were  like  scarlet  stains  in  the  twilight  air. 

Once  more  the  restless  horse  neighed,  far  off,  and 
another  answered  him. 

Then  the  man  was  ready.  He  took  his  knife  and 
ripped  Zoe's  blue  cotton  tunic  from  her  throat  to  her 
left  shoulder  and  down  her  side,  and  she  tried  not  even 
to  shudder,  for  she  did  not  know  what  was  coming  but 
she  would  die  bravely;  and  when  she  was  dead  Zeno 
would  come,  and  Gorlias,  and  they  would  avenge  her. 
Death  was  but  death,  even  by  torture,  and  there  were 
worse  things  in  life  which  had  been  spared  her. 

Furthermore,  if  she  died,  it  would  be  for  a  good  cause, 
as  well  as  to  help  Zeno  to  be  free.  Therefore,  now  that 
it  was  all  decided,  she  looked  a  last  time  at  the  face  of 
Andronicus,  loose-lipped  and  cruel,  and  then  shut  her 
eyes  and  prayed  God  that  she  might  neither  flinch  nor 


xvin  ARETHUSA  337 

utter  one  word  that  could  hinder  the  end,  if  it  was  at 
hand,  as  she  still  hoped. 

She  felt  the  chilly  air  on  her  shoulder  and  side,  and 
then  something  small  and  hard  was  pressed  against  her, 
just  under  he*r  arm;  and  hands  that  felt  like  horns, 
but  were  horribly  quick  and  skilful,  put  a  bandage 
round  her  and  drew  it  tight,  and  it  kept  the  thing  in 
its  place. 

But  under  that  thing,  which  was  the  half  walnut 
shell,  something  small  was  alive  and  moved  slowly  round 
and  round.  There  was  no  real  pain  at  first,  but  she  felt 
that  the  slow  and  delicate  irritation  might  drive  her  mad. 

Then,  suddenly,  a  thrill  of  wild  agony  ran  through  her 
and  convulsed  her  body  against  her  will,  but  many 
hands  held  her  now  and  she  could  not  move.  The  hor 
rible  borer-beetle  had  begun  to  work  its  way  into  her 
flesh,  under  the  walnut  shell. 

The  corpse-faced  man  had  watched  her  attentively, 
and  when  he  saw  her  start  his  creaking  voice  was  heard 
in  the  stillness. 

'She  will  speak  before  you  can  count  ten  score/  he 
said. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

ZOE  had  closed  her  eyes  to  bear  the  pain  better, 
and  a  tiny  drop  of  blood  slowly  trickled  from  the 
lip  she  had  bitten  in  the  first  moment  of  the 
torture.  It  made  a  thin,  dark  line  from  her  mouth 
downward,  a  little  on  the  left  side,  over  her  white  chin. 
Her  breath  came  in  deep  and  quivering  sobs,  drawn 
through  her  clenched  teeth,  but  no  other  sound  escaped 
her  in  those  awful  seconds.  She  was  praying  that  death 
might  come  soon,  but  she  did  not  ask  for  strength  to  be 
silent;  that  she  had,  for  Carlo  Zeno's  sake,  and  for  the 
sake  of  the  just  vengeance  that  would  overtake  Androni- 
cus  when  she  was  dead,  if  only  he  were  not  warned  of 
what  was  perhaps  so  near.  She  thought  she  might 
die  of  the  pain  only;  she  was  sure  that  she  must  faint 
away  if  it  lasted  many  moments  longer. 

The  Emperor  bent  down  in  his  saddle  to  see  her  agonised 
white  face  more  clearly  in  the  gathering  gloom,  and  to 
catch  the  least  syllable  she  might  speak;  and  his  loose 
lip  moved,  for  he  was  counting  to  himself,  counting  the 
ten  score,  after  which  she  would  be  able  to  bear  no 
more  and  would  tell  him  where  the  danger  was.  For 
the  corpse-faced  man  knew  his  business,  and  his  ex 
perience  had  been  wide  and  long,  and  the  Emperor  knew 
that  he  never  made  a  mistake.  Moreover,  the  Greek 

338 


CHAP.  XIX 


ARETHUSA  339 


minister  smiled  with  sheer  pleasure  at  the  sight,  and 
hoped  that  his  master  would  command  them  to  put  the 
girl  to  death  by  very  slow  torments. 

The  guards,  too,  crowded  upon  each  other  to  see,  but 
they  were  not  all  silent  now;  for  there  were  brave  men 
amongst  them,  savage  adventurers  from  the  wild  moun 
tains  beyond  the  Black  Sea,  who  feared  neither  God, 
nor  Emperor,  nor  man ;  and  they  did  not  like  the  sight 
they  saw,  and  they  said  words  one  to  another  in  strange 
tongues  which  the  Greeks  could  not  understand. 

Androriicus  counted  slowly  to  twenty,  and  then  still 
more  slowly  to  forty,  and  the  tortured  girl's  sharp  breath 
ing  irritated  him. 

'Speak !'  he  cried,  in  a  tone  that  was  low  and  angry. 
'Tell  me  where  the  danger  is,  or  the  thing  shall  eat  out 
your  heart ! ' 

Then  the  answer  came,  but  not  in  Zoe's  voice,  nor  by 
one  voice,  but  by  many,  loud  and  deep ;  and  though  the 
words  were  confused,  some  could  be  heard  well  enough ; 
and  they  told  the  loose-lipped  cowardly  youth  where 
the  danger  was,  for  it  was  upon  him. 

'  Johannes !  Johannes  reigns !  God  and  the  Emperor ! 
Emperor  Johannes ! ' 

That  was  what  the  voices  shouted  from  the  gate,  as 
the  multitude  swept  in,  driving  the  sentinels  and  guards 
before  them  as  the  gale  drives  dry  leaves.  With  but  one 
breathing-space  for  thought  and  resolve,  the  guards  in 
their  scarlet  tunics  closed  round  Andronicus  like  waves 
of  blood  in  the  deep  dusk,  and  he  went  down  under  them, 
and  heard  them  answer  the  coming  people  — 


340  ARETHUSA  CHAP. 

*  Johannes  reigns !  Emperor  Johannes ! ' 
Zoe  heard  the  cry  through  her  torment  and  forgot 
the  pain  for  one  moment,  and  the  next,  the  dumb 
Ethiopian  who  had  held  her,  slit  the  torturer's  bandage 
and  plucked  the  walnut  shell  from  under  her  arm, 
with  its  living  contents,  and  threw  them  away;  for  he 
had  seen  Andronicus  go  down,  and  knew  that  there  was 
a  new  master.  Then  some  of  the  men,  who  remembered 
it  afterwards,  saw  the  corpse-faced  man  grovelling  on  the 
ground  and  searching  for  his  treasure,  which  could  make 
the  toughest  victim  speak  before  one  could  count  ten 
score ;  for  he  served  the  Emperor,  whoever  he  might  be, 
as  he  and  his  father  before  him  had  served  many.  No 
one  ever  killed  the  torturer.  So  he  went  amongst  the 
trampling  feet  on  his  hands  and  knees,  feeling  nothing,  if 
so  be  that  he  might  find  his  pet  and  get  it  back  safely 
into  its  cage  in  his  bosom.  And  when  he  found  it  still 
in  the  walnut  shell,  by  the  strange  chance  that  protects 
all  evil,  he  laughed  like  a  maniac  and  slipped  between 
the  guards'  legs  on  all  fours,  like  a  hideous  white-faced 
ape,  and  ran  away  into  the  palace. 

Zoe  had  opened  her  eyes,  and  the  pain  was  gone, 
leaving  only  a  throb  behind,  and  she  gathered  her  torn 
tunic  to  her  neck  with  one  hand  as  best  she  could  and 
slipped  out  of  the  turmoil ;  and  only  she,  of  all  those  that 
heard  the  first  shout,  knew  how  it  was  that  the  people 
were  cheering  for  the  delivered  Emperor,  while  Johannes 
was  still  shut  up  in  the  tower  and  guarded  by  the  deaf- 
and-dumb  Africans;  and  in  the  glorious  triumph  of 
her  plan  she  forgot  everything  else  but  the  man  she  loved, 


xix  ARETHUSA  341 

and  he  was  safe  now,  beyond  all  doubt.  Was  he  not  the 
friend  of  the  restored  Johannes?  The  soldiers  would 
not  dare,  on  their  lives,  to  keep  him  a  prisoner  now,  not 
for  one  hour,  not  for  one  moment. 

And  there  he  rode,  surely  enough,  in  the  front  rank 
of  the  multitude,  on  the  right  hand  of  Emperor  John. 
She  knew  him,  though  the  last  grey  light  was  fading  from 
the  sky.  She  would  have  known  him  in  the  dark,  it 
seemed  to  her  that  if  she  had  been  blind  she  would  have 
known  that  he  was  near;  and  her  joy  rose  in  her  throat, 
after  the  torture  she  had  endured,  and  almost  choked 
her,  so  that  she  reeled  unsteadily  and  gasped  for  breath. 

He  was  on  the  right  hand  of  the  Emperor  John, '  Hand 
some  John,'  whom  the  people  had  once  loved  and  whom 
they  were  now  ready  to  love  again,  having  tasted  of  the 
scorpions  with  which  Andronicus  had  regaled  them. 
'Handsome  John/  with  his  splendid  brown  beard  — 
the  light  of  torches  flashed  upon  it  now  —  and  his  cloth- 
of-gold  cloak  drawn  closely  round  him  like  a  bishop's 
cope,  so  that  it  hid  his  hands  and  half  his  bridle  on  each 
side,  and  covered  the  back  of  his  head,  too,  and  a  great 
part  of  his  cheeks ;  he  wore  the  tall  imperial  head-dress 
also,  and  it  shaded  his  eyes.  The  people  had  recognised 
him  more  by  his  fine  beard  and  his  cloth  of  gold  than  by 
his  face,  but  the  beard  was  unmistakable ;  and  besides, 
there  were  men  with  him  who  scattered  coins  to  the  mul 
titude,  and  those  coins  were  good.  But  the  followers 
who  were  nearest  to  him  and  Zeno,  and  who  pressed  round 
them  both  to  defend  them,  if  need  be,  were  almost  all 
sailors,  Venetian  shipwrights  and  workmen  from  the 


342  AKETHUSA  CHAP. 

docks,  though  Tocktamish's  Tartars  were  close  behind, 
making  a  tremendous  shouting,  and  striking  their  long 
tasselled  spears  against  each  other  after  their  manner, 
with  a  clatter  of  wood  like  a  monstrous  rattle ;  and  other 
soldiers  had  joined  them  by  hundreds,  and  after  them 
pressed  the  artisans  of  Constantinople,  the  Bulgarian 
blacksmiths,  the  Italian  stone-cutters  and  masons,  the 
Moorish  armourers  and  the  Syrian  sword-smiths  from 
Damascus,  the  Sicilian  rope-makers,  the  Persian  silk- 
weavers,  and  the  Smyrniote  carpet-weavers,  and  the 
linen- weavers  from  Alexandria  with  many  others;  and 
every  man  who  was  not  a  soldier  had  something  in  his 
hand  for  a  weapon  —  a  hammer,  a  mallet,  or  a  carpet- 
maker's  staff,  or  only  a  stout  cudgel.  And  they  ran, 
and  pushed,  and  forced  their  way  through  the  gate, 
spreading  out  again  within  the  court,  cheering  and  yelling 
for  Johannes  in  a  dozen  languages  at  once. 

The  Emperor  John  sat  quite  still  on  his  horse,  wrapped 
in  his  cloak,  but  Zeno  rode  forward,  till  he  was  almost 
upon  the  knot  of  the  guards  who  had  pulled  down 
Andronicus,  and  he  threw  up  his  hand,  crying  out  to  the 
men  not  to  kill,  in  a  voice  that  dominated  the  terrific  din ; 
and  he  was  but  just  in  time,  for  he  was  only  obeyed  be 
cause  he  offered  a  reward. 

1  Ten  pounds  of  gold  for  Andronicus  alive  ! '  he  shouted. 

For  that  was  the  price  Andronicus  had  set  on  his  head 
that  morning,  and  what  was  enough  for  Zeno  was  enough 
for  an  Emperor.  So  half  a  dozen  of  the  guards  dragged 
the  man  alive  into  the  palace,  and  bound  him  securely 
with  his  hands  behind  him,  and  stripped  off  his  jewels 


xix  ARETHUSA  343 

and  his  gold,  and  kicked  him  into  a  small  secret  room 
behind  the  porter's  lodge,  and  shut  the  door.  There  the 
corpse-faced  man  was  squatting  in  a  dark  corner,  blow 
ing  some  coals  to  a  glow  in  an  earthen  pan,  because  he 
might  soon  be  called  to  do  more  work,  and  unless  the 
vinegar  was  really  boiling  hot  the  fumes  of  it  would  not 
put  out'4he  eyesight.  As  Andronicus  lay  on  the  floor 
he  could  see  the  man. 

But  outside,  the  confusion  grew  and  the  noise  increased 
as  the  people  poured  into  the  vast  courtyard  and  pressed 
behind  upon  those  who  had  entered  before  them. 

Then  the  door  of  the  tower  in  the  corner  was  opened 
from  within,  and  the  African  mutes  came  out  and  joined 
the  oth*er  soldiers,  and  from  an  upper  window  the  cap 
tain  and  his  wife  looked  down,  and  by  the  help  of  what 
she  told  him  he  understood  that  it  was  time  to  set  his 
prisoner  free,  if  he  did  not  mean  to  risk  being  torn  to 
shreds  by  the  people,  though  he  could  not  at  all  under 
stand  who  it  was  whom  he  saw  on  horseback  in  the 
torchlight,  dressed  in  cloth  of  gold,  with  the  imperial 
head-dress  on  his  head,  for  he  knew  well  enough  that  so 
long  as  the  key  of  the  upper  prison  hung  at  his  own  belt, 
Johannes  could  not  get  out.  Yet  there  was  no  mistaking 
the  cry  of  the  people,  and  his  wife  urged  him  not  to  lose 
time. 

The  crowd  was  surging  towards  the  tower  now,  led 
by  Zeno  and  the  Emperor,  and  they  and  their  sailors 
and  dockmen  kept  in  front  of  the  crowd  to  be  the  first 
to  dismount  and  enter  the  tower,  and  then  the  sailors 
kept  the  throng  back,  telling  them  that  Johannes  had 


344  ARETHUSA  CHAP. 

gone  in  to  free  his  youngest  son,  and  the  two  men  who 
had  the  deep  bags  of  money  threw  lavish  handfuls  to 
the  people,  to  amuse  them  while  they  waited. 

But  when  Zeno  and  the  Emperor  came  out  again, 
Johannes'  face  was  all  uncovered,  and  the  cloth-of-gold 
cope  hung  loosely  on  his  shoulders;  and  by  the  glare  of 
many  torches  every  one  knew  that  it  was  Johannes  him 
self,  and  none  other,  and  men  cheered  and  yelled  till  they 
were  hoarse. 

After  the  Emperor  and  Zeno  came  a  man  whom  no 
one  had  seen  go  in  with  them,  and  he  had  a  very  scanty 
dark  beard  and  was  dressed  in  quiet  brown,  though  he 
wore  a  horseman's  boots,  and  he  was  Gorlias  Pietrogliant, 
who  had  acted  so  well  the  part  which  Zoe  had  imagined 
for  him. 

But  Zeno  knew  nothing  of  Arethusa,  yesterday  his 
slave,  and  since  last  night  the  woman  of  his  heart,  for 
in  the  haste  and  stress  of  that  tremendous  half-hour, 
Gorlias  could  tell  him  nothing,  except  that  he  was 
Gorlias  and  not  the  Emperor,  and  that  the  deed  giving 
Tenedos  over  to  Venice  was  signed  and  in  his  bosom; 
and  Zeno  supposed  that  he  had  devised  all  the  wonderful 
scheme,  which  looked  so  simple  as  soon  as  it  began  to  be 
carried  out.  Arethusa,  he  thought,  was  safe  at  home ; 
sleepless,  worn  out  with  waiting,  trembling  with  anxiety, 
perhaps,  but  safe.  Now  that  the  deed  was  done,  now 
that  Andronicus  was  bound,  and  Johannes,  his  father,  was 
restored  to  the  throne,  Carlo  Zeno  thought  only  of  leaving 
Constantinople  without  delay,  before  the  Emperor  could 
take  back  his  word,  and  revoke  the  cession  of  Tenedos. 


xix  ARETHUSA  345 

For  Zeno  did  not  put  his  trust  in  Oriental  princes,  and 
feared  the  Greeks  even  when  they  offered  gifts.  With  a 
swift  Venetian  vessel  and  a  fair  wind,  the  coveted  island 
could  be  reached  in  two  days,  or  even  less ;  its  governor 
had  always  at  heart  been  faithful  to  Johannes,  and 
would  obey  the  deed  which  Gorlias  had  thrust  into 
Zeno's  hand  in  the  tower,  and  if  once  the  standard  of 
St.  Mark  were  raised  on  the  fort  there  was  small  chance 
that  any  enemy  would  be  able  to  tear  it  down. 

Therefore,  just  when  the  soldiers  were  lifting  Johannes 
from  his  horse  to  carry  him  to  the  throne-room  with  wild 
triumph  and  rejoicing,  Zeno  slipped  from  the  saddle  to 
escape  notice,  elbowed  his  way  to  the  outskirts  of  the 
crowd,  and  was  on  the  point  of  making  for  the  gate  when 
Gorlias  found  him  again. 

'Arethusa  asks  you  to  come  to  her/  Gorlias  said. 

'I  am  going ' 

'  No.  She  is  here.  It  was  all  her  plan ;  she  risked  her 
life  for  it,  we  were  a  few  moments  late,  and  she  has  been 
tortured.  Come  quickly !' 

Zeno's  face  changed.  Gorlias  saw  that,  even  in  the 
dim  light  of  the  now  distant  torches.  It  was  the  change 
that  comes  into  a  master  swordman's  face  when  he  makes 
up  his  mind  to  kill,  after  only  defending  himself  because 
his  adversary  has  tried  some  dastardly  murderous  trick 
of  fence.  But  Zeno  said  nothing  as  he  strode  swiftly 
by  his  companion's  side. 

Gorlias  had  found  her  and  had  brought  her  into  the 
lower  chamber  of  the  tower,  now  deserted  by  the  guards. 
The  captain's  wife  had  been  standing  at  the  door,  not 


346  ARETHUSA  CHAP. 

daring  to  go  out  amongst  the  half-frantic  soldiers.  She 
might  have  fared  ill  at  their  hands  if  she  had  been 
recognised  just  then  as  the  wife  of  the  Emperor's  gaoler. 
So  she  had  stood  under  the  archway,  watching  and  listen 
ing,  and  Gorlias  had  given  Zoe  half-fainting  into  her  care 
while  he  went  to  find  Zeno. 

She  had  taken  the  girl  on  her  knees  like  a  child,  while 
she  herself  sat  on  the  narrow  stone  bench  that  ran  round 
the  wall,  for  there  was  no  furniture  of  any  sort  there. 
Zoe's  head  lay  upon  the  shoulder  of  the  big  woman  who 
gently  smoothed  and  patted  the  soft  brown  hair,  and 
rocked  the  light  figure  on  her  knees  with  a  side  motion 
as  nurses  do.  She  did  not  know  what  was  the  matter, 
but  she  recognised  the  girl  who  had  brought  the  message 
and  who  had  been  caught  outside  the  door. 

Then  Zeno  came,  and  in  a  moment  he  was  close  beside 
Zoe;  resting  one  knee  on  the  stone  bench,  bending  down, 
and  very  tenderly  lifting  the  lovely  head  into  his  own  arm. 

She  knew  his  touch,  she  turned  her  face  up  with  a  great 
effort,  for  she  had  hardly  any  strength  left,  and  her  lids 
that  were  but  half-closed  like  a  dying  person's,  quivered 
and  opened,  and  for  one  instant  her  eyes  were  full  of 
light.  Her  voice  came  to  him  from  far  off,  almost  from 
the  other  world. 

1  Safe  !    Ah,  thank  God  !    It  was  worth  the  pain  ! ' 

Then  she  fainted  quite  away  in  his  arms,  but  he  knew 
that  she  was  not  dying,  for  he  had  seen  many  pass 
from  life,  and  the  signs  were  familiar  to  him. 

He  gathered  her  to  him  and  carried  her  lightry  through 
the  open  door,  where  Gorlias  was  ready;  and  Gorlias 
knew  where  Vito  was  waiting  with  the  skiff  at  the  old 


xix  ARETHUSA  347 

landing  not  far  below  the  tower,  and  he  helped  the  boat 
man  to  row  them  home. 

Thus  ended  that  long  day,  which  had  so  nearly  been 
Zoe's  last  and  Zeno's  too ;  and  when  she  opened  her  eyes 
again  and  found  herself  lying  on  her  own  divan  under 
the  soft  light  of  the  lamps,  and  looked  into  his  anxious, 
loving  face,  all  the  weariness  sank  away  from  her  own, 
and  for  an  instant  she  felt  as  strong  as  if  she  had  freshly 
waked  from  rest;  then  she  put  up  her  arms  together, 
though  it  hurt  her  very  much  to  lift  the  left  one,  and  she 
clasped  her  hands  round  his  handsome  brown  neck  and 
drew  him  down  to  her  without  a  word. 

It  was  only  for  a  moment.  Her  strength  failed  her 
again,  and  he  felt  her  little  hands  relax;  so  he  knelt 
down  by  the  divan  and  laid  his  cheek  upon  the  edge  of 
her  pillow,  so  that  he  could  look  into  her  face,  and  they 
both  smiled;  and  his  smile  was  anxious,  but  hers  was 
satisfied.  He  did  not  know  what  they  had  done  to  her, 
but  he  was  sure  that  she  needed  care. 

'You  are  suffering,'  he  said.  'What  shall  I  do? 
Shall  I  send  for  a  physician  ?' 

'No.  Stay  with  me.  Let  me  look  at  you.  That  is 
all  I  need.' 

Her  speech  came  in  short,  soft  phrases,  like  kisses  from 
lips  half-asleep,  when  there  is  a  little  dream  between  each 
sentence  and  the  next.  But  even  when  she  was  asleep 
he  still  knelt  beside  her,  and  now  and  then  her  body 
quivered,  and  she  drew  a  sharp  breath  suddenly  as  if 
the  pain  she  had  borne  ran  through  her  again,  though 
more  in  memory  than  in  real  suffering  now. 


CHAPTER  XX 

ZENO  left  her  when  she  was  breathing  quietly, 
after  ordering  the  two  little  maids  to  watch  her  by 
turns,  or  at  least  to  go  to  sleep  very  near  her,  in 
case  she  should  wake  and  call.  He  himself  was  worn 
out  with  fatigue  and  hunger,  for  he  had  not  tasted  any 
thing  since  he  had  supped  with  Zoe  on  the  previous 
evening.  He  went  down  to  his  own  rooms,  where  Vito 
had  prepared  him  food  and  wine,  which  he  had  asked 
Gorlias  to  share  with  him.  But  the  ex-astrologer  was 
gone,  and  the  master  ate  and  drank  alone  that  night, 
smiling  now  and  then  at  the  recollection  of  the  dark  hours 
in  the  dry  cistern,  and  giving  orders  to  Vito  about  the 
journey  which  was  to  be  begun  on  the  morrow,  if  pos 
sible.  And  Vito  gave  him  a  detailed  account  of  what 
had  happened  in  his  absence. 

Now  that  Zoe  was  safe  he  was  supremely  happ}r.  In 
his  heart  the  fighting  man  had  detested  the  peaceful 
merchant's  life  he  had  chosen  to  lead  for  more  than  two 
years,  and  already,  in  imagination,  his  hands  were  on 
the  helm,  the  salt  spray  was  in  his  face,  and  his  ship  was 
going  free  on  her  course  for  the  wonderful  Isles  of  Ad 
venture. 

But  by  the  orders  he  gave  while  he  ate  his  supper, 
Vito  understood  that  he  was  not  going  alone.  When 

348 


CHAP.  XX 


ARETHUSA  349 


had  Carlo  Zeno  ever  taken  rich  carpets,  soft  cushions, 
silver  basins,  and  delicate  provisions  to  sea  with  him, 
except  as  merchandise,  packed  in  bales  and  stowed 
below?  A  camp-bed  ashore,  a  hammock  at  sea,  were 
enough  for  his  comfort.  Vito  mentally  noted  each  order, 
and  when  the  time  came  he  had  forgotten  nothing; 
but  he  asked  no  questions. 

Early  in  the  morning,  when  Zeno  had  learned  that 
Zoe  was  still  asleep,  he  went  down  to  the  harbour  and 
found  that  Sebastian  Corner's  ship  was  to  sail  the  next 
day  at  dawn,  the  same  vessel  that  had  brought  the  letter 
from  Venice  which  had  led  him  to  buy  Arethusa;  the 
very  galley  by  which  she  should  have  been  carried  to 
Marco  Pesaro,  if  Zeno  had  not  thought  better  of  the 
matter  before  drawing  the  three  hundred  ducats. 

Now  Sebastian  Corner  was  a  brave  captain,  as  well  as 
a  man  of  business,  and  could  be  trusted ;  and  when  Zeno 
had  shown  him  the  deed  which  gave  Tenedos  to  the 
Serene  Republic  he  did  not  hesitate,  but  promised  to 
help  Carlo  to  take  possession  of  the  island  within  three 
days,  before  Johannes  could  change  his  mind.  So  that 
matter  was  settled,  and  Zeno  departed,  saying  that  he 
would  send  his  baggage  on  board  during  the  day. 

When  he  came  home  he  found  the  secretary  waiting 
with  his  tale  of  woe.  Omobono  looked  and  felt  like  an 
elderly  sick  lamb,  very  sorry  for  himself  and  terribly 
anxious  not  to  be  blamed  for  what  had  happened, 
while  equally  afraid  of  being  scolded  for  talking  too 
much.  He  had  passed  through  the  most  awful  ordeal  of 
his  peaceful  life  very  bravely,  he  believed;  and  if  Zeno 


350  AKETHUSA  CHAP. 

had  called  him  a  cackling  hen  that  morning  the  shock 
might  have  unsettled  his  brain,  and  would  certainly  have 
broken  his  heart. 

But  Zeno  had  been  informed  by  Vito  of  the  events 
that  had  disturbed  his  household,  and  knew  that  Omo- 
bono  had  done  his  best,  considering  what  his  worst 
might  have  been,  he  being  of  a  timid  temperament. 

1  You  did  very  well, '  said  the  master.  '  In  ancient  days, 
Omobono,  those  who  died  for  their  faith  were  indeed 
venerated  as  martyrs,  but  those  who  suffered  and  lived 
were  afterwards  revered  as  confessors.  That  is  your 
position.' 

This  piece  of  information  Zeno  had  acquired,  with  more 
of  the  same  kind,  when  he  had  expected  to  be  made 
a  canon  of  Patras.  Omobono's  heart  glowed  at  the 
praise. 

'And  the  confessor,  sir,  has  the  advantage  of  being 
alive  and  can  still  be  useful/  he  ventured  to  suggest, 
though  with  some  diffidence. 

'Precisely,'  Zeno  assented.  'A  live  dog  is  better  than 
a  dead  lion.  I  mean  a  wTatch-dog,  of  course,  Omobono/ 
he  added  rather  hastily,  'a  faithful  watch-dog.' 

Omobono's  appearance  that  morning  did  not  suggest 
the  guardian  of  the  flock,  the  shepherd's  shaggy  friend. 
Not  in  the  least ;  but  he  was  pleased,  and  when  he  was 
told  that  he  was  to  pack  his  belongings  and  make 
ready  to  leave  Constantinople  for  a  trip  to  Venice  his 
delight  actually  brought  a  little  colour  into  his  grey 
cheeks. 

'And  may  I  enquire,  sir/  he  began,  'about  the ' 


XX 


ARETHUSA  351 


he  paused  and  looked  significantly  at  the  ceiling,  to  in 
dicate  the  upper  story  of  the  house,  —  'about  the  lady  ?' 
he  added,  finishing  his  question  at  last. 

'She  goes  with  us/  answered  Zeno  briefly. 

'Yes,  sir.  But  may  I  ask  whether  it  will  be  part  of 
my  duty  to  be  responsible  for  her?' 

'You?'  Zeno  looked  at  the  little  man  in  undisguised 
astonishment. 

'I  mean,  sir,  on  Messer  Marco  Pesaro's  account.  I  had 
understood ' 

'No,'  said  Zeno,  'you  had  not  understood.' 

'  But   then,   sir ' 

'Omobono,  I  have  often  warned  you  against  your 
curiosity.' 

'  Yes,  sir.  I  pray  every  day  for  strength  to  withstand 
it.  Nevertheless,  though  I  know  it  is  a  sin  it  sometimes 
leads  me  to  learn  things  which  are  of  use.  I  do  not 
think  that  if  you  knew  what  I  know,  sir,  you  would 
contemplate  the  possibility  of  disposing  of ' 

'You  talk  too  much,'  said  Zeno.  'If  you  have  any 
thing  to  say,  then  say  it.  If  you  have  nothing  to  say, 
then  say  nothing.  But  do  not  talk.  What  have  you 
found  out?' 

Thus  deprived  of  the  pleasure  of  telling  a  long  story, 
Omobono  conscientiously  tried  to  impart  his  information 
in  the  fewest  possible  words. 

'  The  lady  is  not  called  Arethusa,  sir.  Before  she  sold 
herself  to  Rustan  to  save  her  people  from  starvation 
she  was  called  Zoe  Rhangabe,  the  daughter  of  the  Pro- 
tosparthos  who  was  executed  by  Andronicus ' 


352  ARETHUSA  CHAP. 

'Rhangabe*?'  repeated  Zeno,  not  believing  him;  for 
it  was  a  great  name,  and  is  still. 

'Yes,  sir.  But  that  was  not  her  name,  either, 
for  he  and  his  wife  had  adopted  her  because  they 
had  no  children,  but  afterwards  two  boys  were  born 
to  them 

' Confound  their  boys!'  interrupted  Zeno.  'Who  is 
she?' 

'  Her  real  name  is  Bianca  Giustiniani ;  she  is  a  Vene 
tian  by  birth,  and  her  father  and  mother  died  of  the 
plague  here  soon  after  she  was  born.  You  see,  sir, 
under  the  circumstances,  and  although  the  lady  called 
herself  a  slave,  such  a  commission  as  Messer  Marco 
Pesaro's ' 

'Omobono/  said  Zeno,  interrupting  him  again,  'get  a 
priest  here  at  once.  I  am  going  to  be  married.' 

'Married,  sir?'     The  little  secretary  was  aghast. 

'Send  Vito  for  the  priest !' 

And  before  Omobono  could  say  more,  Zeno  had  left 
the  room. 

He  found  Zoe  standing  by  the  open  window,  and  the 
morning  sun  was  still  streaming  in.  Her  hair  was  not 
taken  up  yet,  but  lay  like  silk  all  over  her  shoulders, 
still  damp  from  the  bath.  She  was  a  little  pale,  as  a 
flower  that  has  blossomed  in  a  dark  room,  and  the  rough 
white  silk  of  the  robe  she  drew  closely  round  her  showed 
by  contrast  the  delicate  tint  and  texture  of  her  skin, 
and  the  sweet  freshness  of  the  tender  and  spiritual 
mouth. 

He  took  her  hand  and  looked  at  her  earnestly  before  he 


Am  1  not  your  bought  slave  ? '  she  asked.     '  I  must  obey.' 


xx  ABETHUSA  353 

spoke.  Only  a  night,  a  day  and  a  night,  had  passed  since 
he  had  understood  what  had  hidden  itself  in  his  heart 
for  weeks.  That  same  truth  had  stolen  into  hers,  too,  but 
she  had  known  what  it  meant. 

'You  kept  your  secret  well/  he  said  —  'too  well !' 

She  shook  her  head,  thinking  he  spoke  of  her 
love. 

'You  knew  it  long  ago/  she  answered.  'And  what 
you  did  not  know,  you  guessed.  You  kept  yours  better 
far.' 

'I  kept  that  one  from  myself,  as  best  I  could/  said  he, 
understanding  what  she  meant.  'I  could  not  keep  it 
for  ever!  But  since  we  know  that  we  love,  our  life 
begins  here,  and  together.  Together,  because  you  saved 
mine  —  I  know  everything,  for  they  have  told  me ;  and 
so  my  life  is  yours,  and  yours  is  mine,  because  we  were 
born  to  mate,  as  falcons  mate  with  falcons,  doves  with 
doves,  and  song-birds  with  song-birds.' 

'  Say  falcons ! '  laughed  Zoe.  '  I  like  the  brave  bird 
better!' 

'  I  do,  too,  —  and  so  my  little  falcon,  Arethusa,  we 
must  wing  it  together  to  a  safer  nest  before  Tocktamish 
or  some  other  barbarian  stirs  up  a  counter-revolution. 
Will  you  come  with  me  ? ' 

She  smiled  and  laid  her  hand  in  his. 

'  Am  I  not  your  bought  slave  ? '  she  asked.  '  I  must 
obey.' 

'That  is  not  enough.  We  are  Christian  man  and 
maid.  You  shall  go  with  me  in  honour  to  my  own 
people.' 

2A 


354  ARETHUSA  CHAP. 

'A  gentleman  of  Venice  cannot  marry  a  slave/  she 
objected,  though  she  smiled. 

He  laughed,  happily,  and  drew  back  from  her  a  little. 

'A  gentleman  of  Venice  may  do  what  seems  good  in 
his  own  eyes,  if  it  be  not  treason/  he  said.  'I  publish 
the  banns  of  marriage  between  Messer  Carlo  Zeno,  of 
Venice,  bachelor,  and  Arethusa ' 

'Of  Rustan  Karaboghazji's  slave  market,  spinster!' 
suggested  Zoe,  laughing  with  him.  '  It  is  a  noble  alliance 
for  the  great  Doge's  house,  sir ! ' 

'Oh!  You  talk  of  Doges?  Then  I  will  put  it  in 
another  way,  as  the  priest  will  say  it  presently,  for  I 
think  he  is  waiting  downstairs  by  this  time,  and  Omo- 
bono  is  teaching  him  his  lesson.' 

'How  shall  you  put  it?' 

'  Bianca  Giustiniani,  wilt  thou  take  this  man  to  be  thy 
wedded  husband?' 

She  was  taken  by  surprise,  and  for  a  moment  the  words 
would  not  come. 

'  Wilt  thou  take  this  man  ? '  he  asked  again,  but  more 
softly  now,  and  nearer  to  her  lips,  though  he  did  not  see 
them;    for  he  thought  he  saw  her  soul  in  her  brave 
brown  eyes,  and  as  for  her  answer,  he  knew  it. 
******** 

Now  the  rest  of  Zeno's  life,  with  much  of  what  the 
story-teller  has  told  here,  is  extant  in  very  bad  Latin, 
written  by  one  of  his  grandsons,  the  good  bishop  Jacopo 
Zeno  of  Belluno:  how  he  sailed  down  the  Dardanelles, 
and  made  good  the  Emperor  John's  gift  of  Tenedos  to 
the  Republic;  and  how  the  Genoese  tried  hard  to  take 


xx  ARETHUSA  355 

it  from  him ;  and  how  he  fought  like  the  hero  he  was,  with 
a  handful  of  men  against  a  host,  and  drove  them  off 
and  saved  the  island;  and  also  how  he  lived  to  save 
Venice  herself  from  them  when  all  seemed  lost,  and  broke 
their  power  for  ever  afterwards;  and  how  he  did  many 
other  glorious  and  great  things,  all  after  he  had  taken 
Bianca  Giustiniani  to  wife. 


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Doll    OrSino.     A  Sequel  to  ««Sant'  Ilario" 

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Taquisara 

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Corleone 

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Marzio's  Crucifix 

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Heart   of   Rome*     A  Tale  of  the  Lost  Water 

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touch,  and  he  has  said  many  things  surpassingly  well." — New  York  Times 
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Cecilia*      A  Story  of  Modern  Rome 


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memorable  Mr.  Isaacs.  ...  A  strong,  interesting,  dramatic  story,  with 
the  picturesque  Roman  setting  beautifully  handled  as  only  a  master's  touch 
could  do  it."  —  Philadelphia  Evening  Telegraph. 

Whosoever  Shall  Offend 

"  It  is  a  story  sustained  from  beginning  to  end  by  an  ever  increasing  dra 
matic  quality."  —  New  York  Evening  Post. 

Pietro  Ghisleri 

"  The  imaginative  richness,  the  marvellous  ingenuity  of  plot,  the  power  and 
subtlety  of  the  portrayal  of  character,  the  charm  of  the  romantic  environ 
ment, —  the  entire  atmosphere,  indeed,  —  rank  this  novel  at  once  among 
the  great  creations."  —  The  Boston  Budget. 

To  Leeward 

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the  most  brilliantly  executed  portraits  in  the  whole  of  Mr.  Crawford's  long 
picture  gallery,  while  for  subtle  insight  into  the  springs  of  human  passion 
and  for  swift  dramatic  action  none  of  the  novels  surpasses  this  one."  —  The 
News  and  Courier. 


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Mr*   Isaacs  (India) 

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(The  Black  Forest) 

"...  Another  notable  contribution  to  the  literature  of  the  day.  It  pos 
sesses  originality  in  its  conception  and  is  a  work  of  unusual  ability.  Its 
interest  is  sustained  to  the  close,  and  it  is  an  advance  even  on  the  previous 
work  of  this  talented  author.  Like  all  Mr.  Crawford's  work,  this  novel  is 
crisp,  clear,  and  vigorous,  and  will  be  read  with  a  great  deal  of  interest."  — 
New  York  Evening  Telegram. 

Zoroaster  (Persia) 

"  It  is  a  drama  in  the  force  of  its  situations  and  in  the  poetry  and  dignity  of 
its  language  ;  but  its  men  and  women  are  not  men  and  women  of  a  play. 
By  the  naturalness  of  their  conversation  and  behavior  they  seem  to  live  and 
lay  hold  of  our  human  sympathy  more  than  the  same  characters  on  a  stage 
could  possibly  do."  —  The  New  York  Times. 

The  Witch  of  Prague  (Bohemia) 

"  A  fantastic  tale,"  illustrated  by  W.  /.  Hennessy. 

"  The  artistic  skill  with  which  this  extraordinary  story  is  constructed  and 
carried  out  is  admirable  and  delightful.  .  .  .  Mr.  Crawford  has  scored  a 
decided  triumph,  for  the  interest  of  the  tale  is  sustained  throughout.  .  .  . 
A  very  remarkable,  powerful,  and  interesting  story."  —  New  York  Tribune. 

Paul   Patoff  (Constantinople) 

"  Mr.  Crawford  has  a  marked  talent  for  assimilating  local  color,  not  to 
make  mention  of  a  broader  historical  sense.  Even  though  he  may  adopt, 
as  it  is  the  romancer's  right  to  do,  the  extreme  romantic  view  ofhistory.it  is 
always  a  living  and  moving  picture  that  he  evolves  for  us,  varied  and  stir 
ring."  —  New  York  Evening  Post. 

Marietta  (Venice) 

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plicated  plot  and  the  skilful  unravelling  of  the  tangled  skein."  —  Chicago 

Record-Herald. 

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Via   Cruds*     A  Romance  of  the  Second  Crusade.      Illustrated 

by  Louis  Loeb 

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absorbing  interest  such  as  few  writers  since  Scott  have  been  able  to  accom 
plish  when  dealing  with  historical  characters."  —  Boston  Transcript. 

In  the  Palace  of  the  King  (Spain) 

"  In  the  Palace  of  the  King  is  a  masterpiece ;  there  is  a  picturesqueness,  a 
sincerity  which  will  catch  all  readers  in  an  agreeable  storm  of  emotion,  and 
even  leave  a  hardened  reviewer  impressed  and  delighted."  —  Literature, 
London. 

With  the  Immortals 

"  The  strange  central  idea  of  the  story  could  have  occurred  only  to  a  writer 
whose  mind  was  very  sensitive  to  the  current  of  modern  thought  and  prog 
ress,  while  its  execution,  the  setting  it  forth  in  proper  literary  clothing, 
could  be  successfully  attempted  only  by  one  whose  active  literary  ability 
should  be  fully  equalled  by  his  power  of  assimilative  knowledge  both  lit 
erary  and  scientific,  and  no  less  by  his  courage  and  capacity  for  hard  work. 
The  book  will  be  found  to  have  a  fascination  entirely  new  for  the  habitual 
reader  of  novels.  Indeed,  Mr.  Crawford  has  succeeded  in  taking  his  read 
ers  quite  above  the  ordinary  plane  of  novel  interest."  —  Boston  Advertiser. 

Children  of  the  King  (Calabria) 

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Crawford  has  produced.  The  picturesque  setting,  Calabria  and  its  sur 
roundings,  the  beautiful  Sorrento  and  the  Gulf  of  Salerno,  with  the  bewitch 
ing  accessories  that  climate,  sea,  and  sky  afford,  give  Mr.  Crawford  rich 
opportunities  to  show  his  rare  descriptive  powers.  As  a  whole  the  book  is 
strong  and  beautiful  through  its  simplicity,  and  ranks  among  the  choicest 
of  the  author's  many  fine  productions."  —  Public  Opinion. 

A  Cigarette  Maker's  Romance  (Munich) 

and   Khaled,  a  Tale  of  Arabia 

"  Two  gems  of  subtle  analysis  of  human  passion  and  motive."  —  Times. 
"  The  interest  is  unflagging  throughout.  Never  has  Mr.  Crawford  done 
more  brilliant  realistic  work  than  here.  But  his  realism  is  only  the  case 
and  cover  for  those  intense  feelings  which,  placed  under  no  matter  what 
humble  conditions,  produce  the  most  dramatic  and  the  most  tragic  situa 
tions.  .  . .  This  is  a" secret  of  genius,  to  take  the  most  coarse  and  common 
material,  the  meanest  surroundings,  the  most  sordid  material  prospects, 
and  out  of  the  vehement  passions  which  sometimes  dominate  all  human 
beings  to  build  up  with  these  poor  elements,  scenes  and  passages  the 
dramatic  and  emotional  power  of  which  at  once  enforce  attention  and 
awaken  the  profoundest  interest."  —  New  York  Tribune. 

Fair  Margaret*    A  Portrait 

"  An  exhilarating  romance  .  .  .  alluring  in  its  naturalness  and  grace."  — 
Boston  Herald. 

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A  Tale  of  a  Lonely  Parish 

"  It  is  a  pleasure  to  have  anything  so  perfect  of  its  kind  as  this  brief  and 
vivid  story.  ...  It  is  doubly  a  success,  being  full  of  human  sympathy,  as 
well  as  thoroughly  artistic  in  its  nice  balancing  of  the  unusual  with  the 
commonplace,  the  clever  juxtaposition  of  innocence  and  guilt,  comedy 
and  tragedy,  simplicity  and  intrigue."  —  Critic. 

Dr.    Claudius.      A  True  Story 

The  scene  changes  from  Heidelberg  to  New  York,  and  much  of  the  story 
develops  during  the  ocean  voyage. 

"There  is  a  satisfying  quality  in  Mr.  Crawford's  strong,  vital,  forceful 
stories."  —  Boston  Herald. 

An   American   Politician.        The  scenes  are  laid  in  Boston 

"  It  need  scarcely  be  said  that  the  story  is  skilfully  and  picturesquely  written, 
portraying  sharply  individual  characters  in  well-defined  surroundings."  — 
New  York  Commercial  Advertiser. 

The  Three  Fates 

"  Mr.  Crawford  has  manifestly  brought  his  best  qualities  as  a  student  of 
human  nature  and  his  finest  resources  as  a  master  of  an  original  and 
picturesque  style  to  bear  tipon  this  story.  Taken  for  all  in  all,  it  is  one  of 
the  most  pleasing  of  all  his  productions  in  fiction,  and  it  affords  a  view  of 
certain  phases  of  American,  or  perhaps  we  should  say  of  New  York,  life 
that  have  not  hitherto  been  treated  with  anything  like  the  same  adequacy 
and  felicity."  —  Boston  Beacon. 

Marion  Darche 

"  Full  enough  of  incident  to  have  furnished  material  for  three  or  four 
stories.  ...  A  most  interesting  and  engrossing  book.  Every  page  unfolds 
new  possibilities,  and  the  incidents  multiply  rapidly."  —  Detroit  Free  Press. 
"  We  are  disposed  to  rank  Marion  Darche  as  the  best  of  Mr.  Crawford's 
American  stories." —  The  Literary  World. 

Katharine  Lauderdale 

The   RalstonS.     A  Sequel  to  "Katharine  Lauderdale" 

"  Mr.  Crawford  at  his  best  is  a  great  novelist,  and  in  Katharine  Lauderdale 
we  have  him  at  his  best."  —  Boston.  Daily  Advertiser. 

"  A  most  admirable  novel,  excellent  in  style,  flashing  with  humor,  and  full 
of  the  ripest  and  wisest  reflections  upon  men  and  women."  —  The  West 
minster  Gazette. 

"  It  is  the  first  time,  we  think,  in  American  fiction  that  any  such  breadth  of 
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The  Celebrity*     An  Episode 

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years.  ...  It  is  the  purest,  keenest  fun." —  Chicago  Inter-Ocean. 

Richard  Carvel  Illustrated 

"...  In  breadth  of  canvas,  massing  of  dramatic  effect,  depth  of  feeling,  and 
rare  wholesomeness  of  spirit,  it  has  seldom,  if  ever,  been  surpassed  by  an 
American  romance." — Chicago  Tribune. 

The   Crossing  Illustrated 

"  The  Crossing  is  a  thoroughly  interesting  book,  packed  with  exciting 
adventure  and  sentimental  incident,  yet  faithful  to  historical  fact  both  in 
detail  and  in  spirit."  —  The  Dial. 

The   Crisis  Illustrated 

"  It  is  a  charming  love  story,  and  never  loses  its  interest.  .  .  .  The  intense 
political  bitterness,  the  intense  patriotism  of  both  parties,  are  shown  under- 
standingly."  —  Evening  Telegraph,  Philadelphia. 

Coniston  Illustrated 

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Mr.  Churchill  has  ever  achieved  before.  ...  It  is  one  of  the  truest  and  finest 

transcripts  of  modern  American  life  thus  far  achieved  in  our  fiction."  — 
Chicago  Record-Herald. 


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The  Choir  Invisible 

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"  One  reads  the  story  for  the  story's  sake,  and  then  re-reads  the  book  out 
of  pure  delight  in  its  beauty.  The  story  is  American  to  the  very  core.  .  .  . 
Mr.  Allen  stands  to-day  in  the  front  rank  of  American  novelists.  The 
Choir  Invisible  will  solidify  a  reputation  already  established  and  bring  into 
clear  light  his  rare  gifts  as  an  artist.  For  this  latest  story  is  as  genuine  a 
work  of  art  as  has  come  from  an  American  hand."  —  HAMILTON  MABIE 
in  The  Outlook. 

The   Reign   of  Law*    A  Tale  of  the  Kentucky  Hempfields 

"  Mr.  Allen  has  a  style  as  original  and  almost  as  perfectly  finished  as  Haw 
thorne's,  and  he  has  also  Hawthorne's  fondness  for  spiritual  suggestion  that 
makes  all  his  stories  rich  in  the  qualities  that  are  lacking  in  so  many  novels 
of  the  period.  ...  If  read  in  the  right  way,  it  cannot  fail  to  add  to  one's 
spiritual  possessions."  —  San  Francisco  Chronicle. 

Summer  in  Arcady.    A  Tale  of  Nature 

"  This  story  by  James  Lane  Allen  is  one  of  the  gems  of  the  season.  It  is 
artistic  in  its  setting,  realistic  and  true  to  nature  and  life  in  its  descriptions, 
dramatic,  pathetic,  tragic,  in  its  incidents  ;  indeed,  a  veritable  masterpiece 
that  must  become  classic.  It  is  difficult  to  give  an  outline  of  the  story ; 
it  is  one  of  the  stories  which  do  not  outline;  it  must  be  read."  —  Boston 
Daily  Advertiser. 

The  Mettle  of  the  Pasture 

"  It  may  be  that  The  Mettle  of  the  Pasture  will  live  and  become  a  part  of 
our  literature ;  it  certainly  will  live  far  beyond  the  allotted  term  of  present- 
day  fiction.  Our  principal  concern  is  that  it  is  a  notable  novel,  that  it  ranks 
high  in  the  range  of  American  and  English  fiction,  and  that  it  is  worth  the 
reading,  the  re-reading,  and  the  continuous  appreciation  of  those  who  care 
for  modern  literature  at  its  best."  —  By  E.  F.  E.  in  the  Boston  Transcript. 

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Flute  and  Violin,  and  Other  Kentucky  Tales 

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The  Virginian 


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Lady  Baltimore 


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The  Secret  Woman 

"  There  cannot  be  two  opinions  as  to  the  interest  and  the  power  of  The 
Secret  Woman.  It  is  not  only  its  author's  masterpiece,  but  it  is  far  in 
advance  of  anything  he  has  yet  written  —  and  that  is  to  give  it  higher  praise 
than  almost  any  other  comparison  with  contemporary  fiction  could  afford." 
—  Times  Saturday  Review. 

Knock  at  a  Venture 

Sketches  of  the  rustic  life  of  Devon,  rich  in  racy,  quaint,  and  humorous 
touches. 

The  Portreeve 


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The  Gospel  of  Freedom 

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broad  and  very  much  up-to-date  sense,  that  has  ever  been  contributed  to 
American  fiction." — Chicago  Inter-Ocean. 

The  Web  of  Life 

"  It  is  strong  in  that  it  faithfully  depicts  many  phases  of  American  life,  and 
uses  them  to  strengthen  a  web  of  fiction,  which  is  most  artistically  wrought 
out."  —  Buffalo  Express. 

The  Real  World 

"  The  title  of  the  book  has  a  subtle  intention.  It  indicates,  and  is  true  to 
the  verities  in  doing  so,  the  strange  dreamlike  quality  of  life  to  the  man 
who  has  not  yet  fought  his  own  battles,  or  come  into  conscious  possession 
of  his  will  — only  such  battles  bite  into  the  consciousness."—  Chicago 
Tribune. 

The  Common  Lot 

"  It  grips  the  reader  tremendously.  .  .  .  It  is  the  drama  of  a  human  soul 
the  reader  watches  ...  the  finest  study  of  human  motive  that  has  appeared 
for  many  a  day."  —  The  World  To-day. 

The  Memoirs  of  an  American  Citizen,     illustrated 

with  about  fifty  drawings  by  F.  B.  Masters 

"  Mr.  Herrick's  book  is  a  book  among  many,  and  he  comes  nearer  to 
reflecting  a  certain  kind  of  recognizable,  contemporaneous  American  spirit 
than  anybody  has  yet  done."  —  New  York  Times. 

"  Intensely  absorbing  as  a  story,  it  is  also  a  crisp,  vigorous  document  of 
startling  significance.  More  than  any  other  writer  to-day  he  is  giving  us 
the  American  novel."  —  New  York  Globe. 


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Mr.  JACK  LONDON'S  NOVELS,  etc. 


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The   Call   of  the   Wild  Illustrated  in  colors 

"  A  big  story  in  sober  English,  and  with  thorough  art  in  the  construction ; 
a  wonderfully  perfect  bit  of  work ;  a  book  that  will  be  heard  of  long.  The 
dog's  adventures  are  as  exciting  as  any  man's  exploits  could  be,  and  Mr. 
London's  workmanship  is  wholly  satisfying."  —  The  New  York  Sun. 

The   Sea- Wolf  Illustrated  in  colors 

"  Jack  London's  The  Sea-Wolf  is  marvellously  truthful.  .  .  .  Reading 
it  through  at  a  sitting,  we  have  found  it  poignantly  interesting  ;  .  .  .  a 
superb  piece  of  craftsmanship." —  The  New  York  Tribune, 

White   Fang  Illustrated  in  colors 

"  A  thrilling  story  of  adventure  .  .  .  stirring  indeed  .  .  .  and  it  touches  a 
chord  of  tenderness  that  is  all  too  rare  in  Mr.  London's  work."  —  Record- 
Herald,  Chicago. 

Before   Adam  Illustrated  in  colors 

"  The  story  moves  with  a  wonderful  sequence  of  interesting  and  wholly 
credible  events.  The  marve<  of  it  all  is  not  in  the  story  itself,  but  in  the 
audacity  of  the  man  who  undertook  such  a  task  as  the  writing  of  it.  ... 
From  an  artistic  standpoint  the  book  is  an  undoubted  success.  And  it  is 
no  less  a  success  from  the  standpoint  of  the  reader  who  seeks  to  be  enter 
tained,"—  The  Plain  Dealer,  Cleveland. 


Shorter  Stones 

Children  of  the  Frost  The  Game 

Faith  of  Men  Moon  Face 

Tales  of  the  Fish  Patrol  Love  of  Life 


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A  Friend  of  Caesar 

"  As  a  story  .  .  .  there  can  be  no  question  of  its  success.  .  .  .  While  the 
beautiful  love  of  Cornelia  and  Drusus  lies  at  the  sound  sweet  heart  of  the 
story,  to  say  so  is  to  give  a  most  meagre  idea  of  the  large  sustained  interest 
of  the  whole.  .  .  .  There  are  many  incidents  so  vivid,  so  brilliant,  that 
they  fix  themselves  in  the  memory."  —  NANCY  HUSTON  BANKS  in  The 
Bookman. 

44  God   Wills   It."    A  Tale  of  the  First  Crusade.      Illustrated 
by  Louis  Betts 

"  Not  since  Sir  Walter  Scott  cast  his  spell  over  us  with  Ivanhoe,  Count 
Robert  of  Paris,  and  Quentin  Durward  have  we  been  so  completely 
«aptivated  by  a  story  as  by  '  God  Wills  It.1  It  grips  the  attention  of  the 
reader  in  the  first  chapter  and  holds  it  till  the  last." —  Christian  Endeavor 
World. 

Falaise  of  the  Blessed  Voice.     A  Tale  of  the  Youth  of 

St.  Louis,  King  of  France 

"  In  this  tale  of  the  youth  of  Louis,  King  of  France  and  afterward  saint  in 
the  calendar  of  the  Catholic  Church,  Mr.  Davis  has  fulfilled  the  promises 
contained  in  A  Friend  of  Caesar  and  '  God  Wills  It.'  The  novel  is  not  only 
interesting  and  written  with  skill  in  the  scenes  which  are  really  dramatic, 
but  it  is  convincing  in  its  character  drawing  and  its  analysis  of  motives." 
—  Evening  Post,  New  York. 

A  Victor   of  Salamis.      A  Tale  of  the   Days  of  Xerxes, 
Leonidas,  and  Themistocles 

"An  altogether  admirable  picture  of  Hellenic  life  and  Hellenic  ideals.  It 
is  just  such  a  book  as  will  convey  to  the  average  reader  what  is  the  eternal 
value  of  Greek  Life  to  the  world  .  .  .  carried  breathlessly  along  by  a  style 
which  never  poses,  and  yet  is  always  strong  and  dignified.  .  .  .  This 
remarkable  book  takes  its  place  with  the  best  of  historical  fiction.  Those 
who  have  made  their  acquaintance  with  the  characters  in  the  days  of  their 
youth  will  find  delight  in  the  remembrance.  Those  who  would  fain  learn 
something  of  the  golden  days  of  Greece  could  not  do  better  than  use  Mr. 
Davis  for  guide." —  The  Daily  Post,  Liverpool. 

"  It  is  seldom  that  the  London  critics  admit  that  an  American  may  wear 
the  mantle  of  Scott,  but  they  are  declaring  that  this  book  entitles  Mr.  Davis 
to  a  place  among  novelists  not  far  below  the  author  of  The  Talisman" 


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MABEL  OSGOOD  WRIGHT'S  NOVELS,  etc. 

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from  photographs 

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proudest  product  of  our  land,  a  home  where  love  of  books  and  love  of 
nature  go  hand  in  hand  with  hearty  simple  love  of  '  folks.'  ...  It  is  a 
charming  book."  —  The  Interior. 

People  of  the  Whirlpool  illustrated 

"  The  whole  book  is  delicious,  with  its  wise  and  kindly  humor,  its  just  per 
spective  of  the  true  values  of  things,  its  clever  pen  pictures  of  people  and 
customs,  and  its  healthy  optimism  for  the  great  world  in  general."  —  Phila 
delphia  Evening  Telegraph. 

The  Woman  Errant 

"  The  book  is  worth  reading.  It  will  cause  discussion.  It  is  an  interesting, 
fictional  presentation  of  an  important  modern  question,  treated  with  fasci 
nating  feminine  adroitness." —  Miss  JEANNETTE  GlLDER  in  The  Chicago 
Tribune. 

At  the  Sign  of  the  Fox 

"  Her  little  pictures  of  country  life  are  fragrant  with  a  genuine  love  of 
nature,  and  there  is  fun  as  genuine  in  her  notes  on  rural  character.  A 
travelling  pieman  is  one  of  her  most  lovable  personages ;  another  is  Tatters, 
a  dog,  who  is  humanly  winsome  and  wise,  and  will  not  soon  be  forgotten 
by  the  reader  of  this  very  entertaining  book."  —  New  York  Tribune. 

The  Garden,  You  and  I 

"This  volume  is  simply  the  best  she  has  yet  put  forth,  and  quite  too  deli- 
ciously  torturing  to  the  reviewer,  whose  only  garden  is  in  Spain.  .  .  .  The 
delightful  humor  which  persuaded  the  earlier  books,  and  without  which 
Barbara  would  not  be  Barbara,  has  lost  nothing  of  its  poignancy,  and 
would  make  The  Garden,  You  and  I  pleasant  reading  even  to  the  man 
who  doesn't  know  a  pink  from  a  phlox  or  a  Daphne  cneorum  from  a 
Cherokee  rose."  —  Congregationalist. 


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least  bit  sensational.  It  is  the  story  of  a  rush.  .  .  .  The  book  is  an  un 
usually  good  story;  one  that  shows  the  inner  workings  of  the  labor  union, 
and  portrays  men  who  are  the  bone  and  sinew  of  the  earth." —  The  Toledo 
Blade. 

The  Short  Line  War 

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The  Henchman 

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tions."  —  CHURCHILL  WILLIAMS  in  The  Bookman. 


"  It  wins  admiration  on  almost  every  page  by  the  cleverness  of  its  inven- 


The  Mastery 

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The  Pride  of  Jennico 

"  This  lively  story  has  a  half-historic  flavor  which  adds  to  its  interest  .  .  . 
told  with  an  intensity  of  style  which  almost  takes  away  the  breath  of  the 
reader."  —  Boston  Transcript. 

E  Youth  But  Knew 

"  They  should  be  the  most  delightful  of  comrades,  for  their  writing  is  so 
apt,  so  responsive,  so  joyous,  so  saturated  with  the  promptings  and  the 
glamour  of  spring.  It  is  because  If  Youth  But  Knew  has  all  these  ador 
able  qualities  that  it  is  so  fascinating." —  Cleveland  Leader. 


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The  Way  of  the  Gods 

"  There  can  be  no  doubt  as  to  the  artistic  quality  of  his  story.  It  rings  true 
with  the  golden  ring  of  chivalry  and  of  woman's  love,  it  rings  true  for  all 
lovers  of  romance,  wherever  they  be,  ...  and  is  told  with  an  art  worthy 
of  the  idea."  —  New  York  Mail. 

Heimweh  and  Other  Stories 

"  As  in  Madam  Butterfly  his  subtle  appreciation  of  love's  tender  mystery 
creates  an  exquisite  thrill  of  'the  heavenly  longing  —  for  the  love  —  the 
loved  ones '  the  one  thing  that  through  poverty  and  age  can  keep  the  door 
open  to  joy."  —  New  York  Times. 


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The  Making  of  Christopher  Ferringhatn 

"  In  brilliancy,  exciting  interest,  and  verisimilitude,  The  Making  of  Chris 
topher  Ferringham  is  one  of  the  best  of  the  semi-historical  novels  of  the 
day,  and  not  unworthy  of  comparison  with  Maurice  Hewlett's  best."  —  Bos 
ton  Advertiser. 

The  Life,  Treason,  and  Death  of  James  Blount 
of  Breckenhow 

"  A  novel  that  may  fairly  challenge  comparison  with  the  very  best,  telling 
the  story  of  treason  and  a  love,  of  many  good  fights,  a  few  mistakes,  and  a 
good  death  at  the  last." —  The  Boston  Transcript. 

The  Fair  Maid  of  Greystones 

"  The  plot  of  The  Fair  Maid  of  Greystones  is  not  unworthy  of  Weyman 
at  his  best.  This  is  strong  praise,  but  it  is  deserved.  From  the  moment 
Tack  Hetherington,  the  Cavalier  volunteer,  assumes  the  identity  of  his 
blackguard  cousin,  and  thus  escapes  certain  death  to  face  the  responsibil 
ity  for  his  kinsman's  dark  deeds,  until  the  end,  which  is  sanely  happy,  the 
adventure  never  flags.  This  is  one  of  the  few  historical  novels  in  whose 
favor  an  exception  may  well  be  made  by  those  who  long  since  lost  interest 
in  the  school."  —  New  York  Mail. 


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Dorothy   Vernon   of   Haddon   HalL     illustrated  by 

Howard  Chandler  Christy 

"  Dorothy  is  a  splendid  creation,  a  superb  creature  of  brains,  beauty,  force, 
capacity,  and  passion,  a  riot  of  energy,  love,  and  red  blood.  She  is  the 
fairest,  fiercest,  strongest,  tenderest  heroine  that  ever  woke  up  a  jaded 
novel  reader  and  made  him  realize  that  life  will  be  worth  living  so  long  as 
the  writers  of  fiction  create  her  like.  .  .  .  The  story  has  brains,  '  go,' 
virility,  gumption,  and  originality."  —  The  Boston  Herald. 

A   Forest    Hearth*     A  Romance  of  Indiana  in  the  Thirties. 
Illustrated 

"This  work  is  a  novel  full  of  charm  and  action,  picturing  the  life  and  love 
of  the  fascinating  indomitably  adventurous  men  and  women,  boys  and  girls, 
who  developed  Indiana.  It  is  a  vigorous,  breezy,  outdoor  book,  with  the 
especial  intimate  touch  that  is  possible  only  when  the  subject  is  one  which 
has  long  lain  close  to  its  author's  heart."  —  Daily  News. 

Yolanda,  Maid  of  Burgundy  illustrated 

"  Charles  Major  has  done  the  best  work  of  his  life  in  Yolanda.  The 
volume  is  a  genuine  romance  .  .  .  and  after  the  reviewer  has  become  sur 
feited  with  problem  novels,  it  is  like  coming  out  into  the  sunlight  to  read 
the  fresh,  sweet  story  of  her  love  for  Max."  —  The  World  To-day. 


Mr.  JOHN  OXENHAM'S  NOVEL 

The   Long   Road  With  frontispiece 

Cloth,  decorated  cover,  $1.50 

"  Not  since  Robert  Louis  Stevenson  has  there  appeared  a  writer  of  English 
who  can  so  thoroughly  serve  his  turn  with  simple  Anglo-Saxon  phrases 
.  .  .  invested  with  sympathetic  interest,  convincing  sincerity,  and  indefin 
able  charm  of  romance."  —  North  American. 

"  It  is  original  both  in  plot  and  in  treatment,  and  its  skilful  mingling  of 
idyllic  beauty  and  tragedy  plays  curious  tricks  with  one's  emotions  .  .  . 
and  leaves  an  impression  of  happiness  and  spiritual  uplift.  It  is  a  story 
that  any  man  or  woman  will  be  the  better  for  reading."  —  Record-Herald, 
Chicago. 


THE    MACMILLAN    COMPANY 

PUBLISHEKS,  64-66  FIFTH  AVENUE,  NEW  YORK 
'5 


Mr.  MAURICE  HEWLETT'S  NOVELS 


Each,  in  decorated  cloth  covers,  $1.50 


The  Forest  Lovers 

"  The  book  is  a  joy  to  read  and  to  remember,  a  source  of  clean  and  pure 
delight  to  the  spiritual  sense,  a  triumph  of  romance  reduced  to  the  essen 
tials,  and  interpreted  with  a  mastery  of  expression  that  is  well-nigh  beyond 
praise."—  The  Dial. 

The  Life  and  Death  of  Richard  Yea-and-Nay 

"  Mr.  Hewlett  has  done  one  of  the  most  notable  things  in  recent  literature, 
a  thing  to  talk  about  with  bated  breath,  as  a  bit  of  master-craftsmanship 
touched  by  the  splendid  dignity  of  real  creation."  —  The  Interior. 

The  Queen's  Quair 

"  The  Queen's  Quair  is,  from  every  point  of  view,  a  notable  contribution  to 
historical  portraiture  in  its  subtlety,  its  vividness  of  color,  its  consistency,  and 
its  fascination.  ....  Above  all,  it  is  intensely  interesting."  —  The  Outlook. 

The  Fool  Errant 

"  It  is  full  of  excellent  description,  of  amusing  characters,  and  of  picaresque 
adventure  brilliantly  related  .  .  .  with  infinite  humor  and  vivacity."  —  The 
New  York  Herald. 

Little  Novels  of  Italy 

"  These  singularly  romantic  stories  are  so  true  to  their  locality  that  they 
read  almost  like  translations."  —  New  York  Times. 

New  Canterbury  Tales 

"  In  the  key  and  style  of  the  author's  Little  Novels  of  Italy,  it  shows  again 
the  brilliant  qualities  of  that  remarkable  book;  .  .  .  daring  but  successful." 
—  New  York  Tribune. 


THE    MACMILLAN    COMPANY 

PUBLISHEBS,  64-66  FIFTH  AVENUE,  NEW  YORK 

16 


YC  i 02526 


